


Danger Danger

by dreamofflight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Anal Sex, Angst, Detective!Castiel, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Human Trafficking, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, UST, Violence, detective!dean, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 100,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofflight/pseuds/dreamofflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fanfiction in the form of a roleplay between<br/>Dreamofflight (Castiel/Gabriel/Anna/occasionally other characters) and<br/>Camuizuuki (Dean/Sam/the Winchester crew/occasionally other characters)</p><p>Genre: Drama, Romance, Action, Angst</p><p>Life turns upside down for Detective Castiel Novak, when his partner and lover Balthazar is shot by a member of a crime syndicate. Life gets even weirder with rookie Dean Winchester showing up as his new partner and somewhere in between revenge and grief the explosive duo becomes closer than they thought they would…<br/><img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn't been properly Beta'd, so any mistakes please be kind enough to gently point out, and I will fix them as I go. This is also a WIP, as we're updating it as we write it, so for now it's 'unfinished'

The door to the hotel slams shut behind them, and Castiel is pressing his partner up against it in the next second, the kiss needy and desperate. Balthazar lets out a surprised sound, but melts into it, moaning softly as he wraps his hands around Castiel's stubbled face.

It doesn't last long, Castiel pulling back with a gasp in the next moment, his voice lower than usual, gravel rough as he growls out "We've got thirty minutes, and then they expect us back at the station."

Balthazar barely nods before his fingers are working, helping Castiel to take off his plain gray suit, letting Castiel's own fingers strip him of his beige overcoat. The clothing falls to the floor, a trail of breadcrumbs as they stumble their way backward to the bed.

Castiel lets out a low chuckle as he's pushed back onto the mattress, scooting his way up and letting Balthazar strip him of his shoes, socks, his pants, until he's left in nothing but underwear, an open button up shirt, and an undershirt. He grabs at his lover once more, helping Balthazar to take off his gun holster, his badge, setting them beside his own on the nightstand, two matching badges and guns for two matching men.

He can't help the gasped moan that comes out of his mouth when his inner thigh is nipped, sucked on, the soft flesh there already dotted in hickies, bruises in the shape of fingers that are in various stages of healing. It's a surprised sound, but it shouldn't really be; Balthazar knows him, knows his body, after years of being together they were like two pieces of a puzzle, fit together more perfectly than anything Castiel had ever experienced.

He sighs softly when the man on top of him pushes his shirt up his stomach, hands moving to trace over strong, tanned shoulders, grip in sandy blonde hair.

"Balthazar...," he shudders at the bite on his hip bone. " _Please_..."

~~~

The next few minutes is a jumble of limbs, breathy gasps and finally skin on skin. Balthazar pushes down, sliding so perfectly against Castiel in a way he knows the other man simultaneously hates and craves the most. It’s so much, yet never enough. He does it again and Castiel bucks beneath him, head thrown back, baring his neck to him.

“I’m sorry, Cassie, I couldn’t hear you… what was that?” he teases, signature smirk on his lips as he holds Castiel, who’s desperately struggling to regain just a bit of control, down with both hands.

He gives in eventually, leaning down to touch his lips to his lover’s, breathing him in for just a moment, before sliding southbound, down where he knows Castiel wants him and when Balthazar’s mouth brushes past his bellybutton, Castiel is reduced to incoherent mumbling.

Half an hour, he’d said. Balthazar grins and leans back against the headboard, cigarette in one hand, lighter in the other. Castiel’s curled up on his side, naked limbs tangled around his partner’s body and the look on his face is one of sheer bliss.

“So, how was I babe?” Balthazar teases and blows Castiel a kiss even when the other man nudges his side with a pout.

Castiel doesn’t like it when he smokes and he does his best to honor that but holy hell, sex with that man just made it downright impossible not to. They get up eventually, shower and get dressed. The precinct is just two blocks away, a matter of five minutes at the most, but they know Chief Turner would rip them a new one if they were only a second late from break. Sure, everyone at the station – including their boss – knew about them being an item but the silent agreement had always been that neither of them would rub their colleagues’ noses in it. Balthazar slips into his overcoat, pulling it tight around his lean body and grabs the car keys before Castiel can get a hold of them.

“I’m driving,” he announces with a wink and darts out of the door.

~~~

Castiel narrows his eyes at Balthazar as the other man steals the keys to their dark blue sedan. He missed the days when it was just a random black and white that they got, that was cleaned out and detailed once a month. Now they had a car that was all their own, so every dent and scratch, every strange stain or smell, well, that was on them.

And Balthazar couldn't drive to save either of their lives (well technically he could, given the extensive defensive and evasive driving training they'd been given...but still.). The amount of 'my bads' and 'whoops' that had happened in the first month of 'owning' the car had been enough for Castiel to basically take over driving for them both, somewhere around 90% of the time.

He sighs as he clips the badge onto his belt, straightens his blue tie, and takes a final look in the mirror at his hair. It wasn't completely obvious that he'd just been rolling around in the sheets of a hotel room with his partner, but his hair was never absolutely perfect anyway. Castiel shrugs on his suit jacket and then leaves, shutting the door behind him as he follows Balthazar out to their car.

They end up not even making it back to the precinct, the call going out on the radio that they'd finally caught one of Azazel's guys on something minor, a red light runner, and had him in for questioning. The dirt bag had actually spilled, and now they had enough evidence to go into Azazel's warehouse, the one they'd been staking out for well over 6 months now.

Castiel smirks as Balthazar flicks the lights on, the siren wailing as they fly down the straight. They were finally going to catch the filthy slimy bastard who'd been responsible for 15 deaths so far, and counting, in the human trafficking ring that Castiel and Balthazar had been lead together on for more than 2 years now.

They were finally going to get him.

~~~

The car screeches to a halt on the spacious parking space behind the warehouse and Balthazar turns the engine off. An indistinct voice on the radio speaks of backup arriving and entering the warehouse from the front. They share a look before opening the doors and making their way over to the back door, Castiel on the left, Balthazar on the right. The door slams open seconds later and under Castiel’s cover, Balthazar slips inside. Darkness engulfs them like a pitch black cloak and if it weren’t for Castiel’s steady breathing in his neck and the quiet noise of their shoes on the cold asphalt, silence would surely swallow them, too.

There’s a tiny speck of light, about 20 yards away, and Balthazar moves closer to Castiel, whispering a short command.

“ _Stay,”_  he says and  _“Be right back.”_

He doesn’t wait for Castiel’s protest, making his way through the darkness, towards the light. He turns around once, trying to spot his partner but failing. Cursing under his breath he grabs his gun tight, index finger steady on the trigger, and presses his back against the space next to the door, under which the faint light keeps glowing. His free hand finds the doorknob and twists it but it doesn’t give. When has it ever been easy, right? He takes one deep breath, silently counting to three, then his foot hits the door right next to the doorknob and the brittle wood burst under the sheer force.

Silence is what follows and Balthazar steps into the dimly lit room, letting his gaze drift over the dusty table, the empty shelves.

“Huh,” he exhales, his body relaxing a bit, as he turns around facing Castiel, who carefully approaches him “Guess the bird has flown. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone for round two after a-”

The words die on his tongue as a sharp pang ripples through his body. For a moment all he sees is Castiel, his face a mask of sheer terror and he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. Then there’s warm blood soaking his shirt and coat, the hand that kept gripping the gun trembles until the weapon drops to the ground and Balthazar can’t keep his legs steady, collapsing next to it. He thinks he hears Castiel screaming but there’s also gunfire or explosions, he’s not sure.

‘Gunshot,’ he thinks bitterly ‘One lousy…gunshot…’

He wishes he could say the last thing he sees is Castiel but there’s only darkness. Darkness and silence.

~~~

The second it happens, the thought that runs through his head is a bitter 'should have waited for back up'. After that moment of clarity though, there's nothing else; there's nothing but blood rushing through his ears, pounding away as he scrambles to Balthazar's side, hands fumbling under the man's coat, desperate to stop the blood that was so easily flowing out from beneath his shirt.  
The bullet proof vest did nothing to stop the gun; the armor piercing round ripping through the Kevlar like it was tissue paper, leaving behind a gaping hole where Balthazar's sternum used to be. Castiel can't hear anything, the ringing in his ears so loud, and all he can manage to do is put pressure to the wound, but he knows, he knows...it's too late.  
Even before the paramedics get there, before it takes five men to bodily pull Castiel away from Balthazar's still frame, he knows it.  
It doesn't mean he stops hoping though, somewhere deep inside, underneath the flash of panic and rage and pure utter terror. The hope doesn't stop when they're in the ambulance, roaring away from the scene with the siren going, the EMTs working frantically around him, the words 'clear!' and 'fuck, nothing, try it again!' coming to him through the haze that had surrounded him, reaching past as if through a gauzy filter.  
The hope doesn't stop as he sits in the waiting room, hands covered in drying blood, idly watching it go from bright red to crimson to burgundy.

It only stops when the Doctor comes out, the pinched look between the man's brows telling Castiel all he needs to know. The man doesn't even get a chance to take his mask off before Castiel is nodding, swallowing thickly, his mouth opening to say something- anything-..but no words come.

He brushes past his fellow detectives, other officers of the law, the words of condolence never reaching him.

It isn't until he gets home, the sun having long faded from the sky, that he curls up on the bed that still smells like Balthazar's aftershave, spicy and tangy and sweet all at once, that he lets himself cry.

He screams until his voice is raw, until his vocal cords literally give out, and then he just lies there, numb, and watches the shadows on the walls go by, until the dawn breaks.


	2. Talpidae

It takes him three days to leave the bedroom.

On the fourth he attends the funeral, and accepts the words of sorrow and sympathy, the handshakes and hesitant hugs.

On the seventh he breaks down again, and drinks himself into a stupor, ending up at his brother's house, sobbing openly. Gabriel takes him in, and in the morning they eat together in silence.

What was there to say? What could possibly make it better?

A month after Castiel puts Balthazar in the ground, he goes back to work. Every one treats him like he's going to break at any second, and he can't tell if them walking on egg shells is worse than the few people who try to act like nothing happened at all, and today is just another day.

Two more months pass, and the paper work has long been filed about what happened that afternoon, about how Azazel and his thugs got away, that Castiel had actually seen the shooter flee and knew him to be a man (and he used the term loosely) named Alastair. Three months since Balthazar was snuffed out like a light, taken from his life, leaving behind a hole that Castiel knew no one would ever be able to fill.

Three months, and that's when the Chief calls him into the office, tells him to hang up his overcoat (it’s a miracle the blood came out, but Castiel would have still worn it anyway, just for the scrawled 'Balthazar' on the tag), and sit down in the chair across from his desk.

Three months, and Castiel gets assigned a new partner. He turns to look at the kid- and that's what he is, a kid, no more than 22, 23 years old?, and takes the offered hand hesitantly. The grin he gets in return is shockingly wide and open and just the wrong side of shit eating; for the first time in three months, Castiel finds that he doesn't feel numb.

He feels utterly and completely  _annoyed_.

*

Things could be better, he's not gonna lie. Surely waltzing in the 64th precinct thirty minutes late for his appointment with police chief Rufus Turner alone would not leave the best impression. But the fact that the hand that’s not holding a cup of Starbucks coffee is curled around the side mirror of a dark blue sedan he broke off when parking his own car makes Dean Winchester fairly pessimistic regarding his new job. He spends a good 15 minutes apologizing, even offers the chief his coffee – which the older man declines with a snort – before the matter is finally dropped.

Chief Turner crosses his arms over his chest, his face serious and Dean’s grip tightens around the takeaway cup.

“Detective Novak’s been… ,” Turner starts, then falls silent again, obviously unsure of how to phrase whatever it is he needs to get out “His partner  _died_  a couple of months ago. He hasn’t taken it so good.”

“I see,” Dean says but Turner shakes his head.

“You don’t. Listen, this is me taking a leap of faith. Novak’s a good cop, one of the best. He’s just having a bit of a… rough patch. I want you to keep an eye out for him but don’t handle him with kid gloves, you understand?”

This time Dean doesn’t reply immediately and he’s not even sure he  _does_  understand where this is going. Then Turner sighs and it’s exhaustion and worry equally.

“Novak is family. He’s been with us for six years and frankly dealing with his…  _temper_  is absolutely impossible these days. We need someone new, someone who doesn’t know about any of the shit that went down before, someone who treats him like a normal person instead of an armed bomb.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Dean says.

Just when Turner nods, there’s a knock on the door. The guy that enters seems to be in his late twenties, but even the crouched gait, the dark rings under his blue eyes and the obvious signs of exhaustion can’t obscure how handsome he is. Dean hesitates jumping off his chair, simply reaches out to shake the other man’s hand when he sits down next to him hesitantly. Dean turns a little in his chair and offers him a wide smile. And yeah, okay, maybe he’s not an expert in hiding his true intentions but god damn, he would hit that!

The chief introduces them quickly and as he rambles on about Dean just having been transferred from Kansas and how this was his first job as a sheriff’s deputy, Dean looks the other man up and down. The dark brown hair is – to put it lightly – a mess, there’s definitely-more-than-three-day stubble on his cheeks and his clothes are in complete disarray. Shirt and jacket look cheap and not exactly on the clean side, the way the tie is slung loosely around the man’s neck is a joke and don’t even get him started on how out baggy trench coats are this season. Still, none of this makes the man any less attractive and the smile returns on Dean’s features, as he realizes his observation didn’t go unnoticed. The look on the man’s face is downright scary and Dean raises a brow as he leans back into his chair. Well, whether chief Turner’s little experiment would turn out to be successful or not – this promises to be entertaining at the very least.

Ten minutes later the office door closes behind the two men and Novak instantly turns on his heel, hurrying down a long corridor to the left and leaving Dean standing there a little clueless. It takes him a second to catch up and follow the guy and the next he’s nearly getting a door shoved into his face.

‘ _C. Novak’_  it reads on a silver plate at eye level and underneath  _‘B. Jones’_.

The ‘s’ is slightly tilted and Dean thinks it looks like someone tried removing it but changed their mind halfway through… Detective Novak is sitting on a cluttered desk, head lowered, not even bothering to look up or asking him to come in, so Dean enters on his own, closing the door behind with a small squeaking sound.

“So…”

When there’s still no reaction from Novak, Dean lets his eyes take in the cramped office space. There’s only one desk and he wonders briefly about that but decides not to bother. He’s not a fan of paperwork anyway. The window is small and almost completely covered by stacks of files and stationary and there’s tons of ‘Wanted’ posters and crime scene photographs on the wall. There’s also an empty space there, thumbtacks and tiny pieces of paper the only remnants of what seems to have been torn down in an outburst of anger or sorrow.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your first name…?”

*

Castiel barely hears the Chief speaking to him, explaining that the rookie from Kansas was going to be taking over for Balthazar as his partner, and together they'd be working on the Azazel case. He can't stop himself when his jaw clenches tight, anger flowing through him so easily, his hands fists around the edge of the armrests.

This…this  _kid'_ s going to try and replace his partner?

The idea leaves a bad taste in the back of his throat, like bile rising up. Castiel manages to make it through the meeting without an outburst, and merely nods once, lips pressed into a thin line, when the Chief dismisses them both. He heads back to his office, _their_  office now, and isn’t that just dandy?, not caring if the kid's following him or not. When the door closes behind him though, Castiel can feel his temper rising again, and stamps it out through the breathing exercises the Force’s therapist had taught him after his first outburst.

He feels bad now, but at the time he’d felt perfectly justified in wanting to kick the crap out of the guy who was trying to scrape Balthazar’s name off the door to their office. The poor man had refused to ever come back after Castiel was done screaming at him, and that was when the mandated six months of therapy had begun.

Thankfully, they're down to meeting twice a week, instead of once a day.

He sighs softly as the anger drains away, and looks up when the kid asks him for his first name. He frowns, brow furrowed and lips pressed thin once more, before speaking. His voice is still rough, but no longer scratchy and dry as it had been for nearly a month, from his nightly cry sessions.

He hasn’t cried in a while, now.

“…It’s Castiel,” he says slowly, as if speaking to a child. Castiel arches a brow at the man and then gestures with a dart of his eyes at the chair on the other side of the desk.

“I’m assuming you’ve read the file that the Chief gave you on Azazel and his operation?”

The last thing he wants to have to do at 9am is go over a file that easily takes up most of their-…his, office.

What a pain.

*

“I browsed through it, yeah. Human trafficking, very messy.”

He shrugs his shoulders, not taking the seat his partner offers, instead making his way over to the far side of the office, where piles and piles of boxes simply labeled 'A.' fill up almost an entire wall. Brushing a finger over the dusty surface of a dark wooden cupboard he directs his gaze back up and over at the other man.

“Castiel, huh?” Dean says slowly, letting the name roll off his tongue another time and once more, before shaking his head and adding with a teasing smile “That's gonna be a hard one to remember. How about I just call you Cassie, mh?”

*

Castiel is barely listening to the other man babble, his focus on the paper work in front of him, yet another form he has to fill out to say that he had done the past week’s mandatory therapy.

The pencil in his hand snaps in half though, when Dean calls him ‘Cassie’. He sees red instantly, body stiffening with every slow breath, and he shuts his eyes for a moment just so he doesn’t leap over the desk and strangle the rookie.

He doubts that the Chief would appreciate a homicide in the precinct before his second cup of coffee.

“…Call me Cassie again…and you’ll be breathing through a tube for a month,” he says slowly, eyes drifting up to stare into Dean’s own. There was no hint of humor there, the blue deadly serious, Castiel’s jaw set and his hands clenched on the top of his desk.

*

To be honest Dean didn't quite believe Chief Turner when he was talking about Castiel Novak's temper. He raises an eyebrow at the stern look on the other man's face and takes a step backwards defensively.

“No Cassie, gotcha. Jeez, man, relax.”

Exhaling audibly he flops down in the chair opposite to Castiel's and reaches for the piece of paper his new partner had been staring at right before he almost ripped him a new one and instantly regrets it. 'Mandatory therapy' is all he needs to read before he knows he went to far. Quickly he gets up again, just in case Detective Novak plans on taking a break from being Mr Nice Guy.

“So, where do we start?”

*

“Routine run for now. I need to go speak with some of the witnesses from…from the last time we encountered Azazel and his crew. Make sure they’re still breathing. They’re in witness protection, so we’ll be meeting them at a secured location, make sure we don’t bring a tail with us.”

He rattles off the information as he stands up, sighing before finishing his coffee in one long gulp. The cup goes back down on the desk, a simple white ceramic mug with the words ‘world’s best detective’ scrawled on it in black sharpie, along with a goofy looking hand drawn badge. It's obviously the work of a child, and the way Castiel sets the cup down makes it even more obvious that he treasures it. He looks up at Dean and then arches his eyebrows up.

“Well? Move, Winchester. You’re blocking the exit.”

*

“One ass getting out of the way, coming right up,” Dean announces, salutes and follows the other man, who seems to have come to the decision to ignore his younger partner's comment, out of the office.

Castiel heads for the blue Sedan, yes,  _that_  same blue Sedan Dean had damaged just an hour ago and Dean curses under his breath. Biting his lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh, he slips in the passenger seat, hoping against all odds Castiel wouldn't notice the missing safety equipment. He does of course and as previously mentioned, Dean is not good at keeping a secret. So obviously the drive to the safe location is a silent one and awkward as hell, but Dean can't help but smiling to himself. It's only 9.30 and he's already managed to piss off his new partner in more than one way.

'Oh well,' he thinks to himself, moving the seat back and taking a deep breath 'Can only get better now, can it?'

*

Castiel almost misses that one of the side view mirrors on his car had been ripped off. Almost. He’s too busy digging his keys out of the pocket of his overly large coat, but he stops in his tracks, eyes widening when he sees the damage. And the mirror isn’t even on the ground, nearby. Castiel swears, cursing under his breath about god damn morons who had no idea how to drive, and how at least the idiot could have left the god damn mirror behind so Castiel could have fucking fixed it!

He looks up when he realizes that Dean is holding absolutely still. Castiel arches a brow at the kid, who just  _grins_ at him, and oh...oh that's wonderful. WONDERFUL. Dean shrugs sheepishly and thumbs at the precinct over his shoulder.

“The, uh,…the mirror’s in the Chief’s office," Dean says, and Castiel swears he could kill the kid right then and there, and call it justifiable.

God.  _Dammit._  He scowls at Dean as he stalks around to the driver’s side and climbs into the car, slamming the door behind him. This is just wonderful. Today's going to be  _sunshine and rainbows_ , he can already tell. And his new partner had to be some kind of idiot savant, otherwise why the hell was he on the force?!

“….FUCK,” Castiel growls, slamming his hands against the steering wheel before starting the car. He waits until Dean climbs in before pulling away, wheels squealing on the pavement.

The ride is mostly quiet, the radio blurting out occasional information from dispatch, calls for 415s and a 488 crackling out of the shoddy stereo system. At a stop light that lasts just a bit too long, Castiel speaks, his voice absolutely deadpan.

“Mirror’s coming out of your check, Winchester,” he says, glancing over at Dean, before pulling ahead as the light turns green.

They make it to the meeting point without incident. It’s a donut shop of all places, about ten miles down the road from the precinct, and parked out front are two large black Suburbans, which Castiel has to try his damnest not to roll his eyes at.

“Real inconspicuous guys,” he rumbles softly as he climbs out of the sedan, pocketing the keys once more and raising a hand in greeting at the Federal Marshalls that were in plain clothes, eating inside the shop.

“When we get in there, let me talk. Don’t say a word, Winchester. This isn’t the time or place for you to play ‘catch up’.”

*

“Sure thing, boss,” Dean says, stretching his limbs and yawning audibly. He's too relaxed to let this bother him more than it absolutely has to.

At the meeting point he follows Castiel on his heels and keeps in the background, as the slightly older man sits down opposite to the witness and starts questioning her. There's not much Dean can do but listen and occasionally take some notes but really, it's not much the woman has to say. The usual 'I saw a dark figure and can't remember their height, gender or what color their car was'. Dean has to stifle another yawn and turns his back on the boring scene. Instead he walks over to the display case, licking his lips at the delicious array of donuts.

Five minutes later he steps back into Castiel's sight, the Boston Cream he'd just purchased almost completely devoured. The glare he receives makes Dean wonder if Castiel Novak is one of the few people in the world who doesn't like donuts. Or maybe, and while he thinks about it Dean is pretty sure that this is the reason for the sour face, it doesn't matter what he does – his new partner doesn't like it or Dean himself for that matter. Quickly he stuffs the donut back into the paper bag it came with, feeling the cold eyes of his partner as he does it.

He follows the man outside without saying a word, only when they're both back in the car turning in his seat to look at him.

“Listen, I'm sorry, you said hang back, I might've taken it a bit too literal. Won't happen again, promise.”

*

Castiel doesn’t deign to even give Dean a response, ignoring him in favor of calling in to the Chief for a quick update. Once that's done, it's only 10am, and Castiel remembers there's something he wanted to check up on. He starts the car and pulls away, headed out toward the warehouse district where the firefight that took Balthazar’s life had been.

He’s silent as he drives, trying his hardest to ignore how oppressive the atmosphere he’d created in the car is. Castiel tries to tell himself that his hostility toward the kid is warranted. Dean Winchester is nothing but some moron from Kansas, some kid who had probably never seen a high speed car chase that didn’t involve a pick up truck, and whose highest accomplishment was probably making it out to LA without getting mugged on the way.

…so Castiel is a little quick to judge. Fuck it. The kid had yet to prove useful for anything other than minor property damage, and being easy on the eyes.

He has to give the Chief that at least…Dean is…gorgeous, as loath as Castiel is to admit it. He finds himself glaring at the other man simply to hide his staring. It's beyond irritating too that Winchester’s eyes are the color of freshly sprouted grass, and that he has freckles (FRECKLES for godssake!) dotting his lightly tanned skin. Annoying little shit.

Castiel grunts in frustration at his own thoughts, and then reaches out and flips on the radio, classical music coming out at a low level from the speakers.

*

So despite what happened at the donut shop, the drive back to the station is relatively bearable. That is until Dean realizes Castiel had taken about three wrong turns and the scenery gradually changes from busy highway to deserted roads and warehouses on each side of the road.

“Whoa man, no need to get rid of me like  _that_ ,” he exclaims jokingly “If you hate me this much I'll ask the Chief for a transfer.”

While still smiling, Dean feels a pang of disappointment. He knows he's not easy to deal with and surely a guy who's still not over the death of his partner isn't best suited to handle Dean Winchester's shenanigans. What if Chief Turner was wrong? What if what Castiel needs is not someone who takes his mind off of things, what if all he needed was his peace and quiet.

*

“Winchester, if I wanted to be rid of you, you certainly wouldn’t know it, not until it was too late,” he deadpans, but there’s the hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips as he takes a side street, the sedan bumping over a metal grate in the ground. He looks around, slowing the car down, and takes in the changes in the area, cataloguing each and every one to write down later. Actually…

“Write this down, Winchester. Building A7, new locks on front door. Windows blacked out. Building A8, door open, interior deserted. White vans gone from side of Building A9, replaced with semi-truck, logo for ‘Midas Trucking’ on side.”

He rattles off everything he sees, expecting Dean to be able to write it down as they slowly cruise through the rows upon rows of warehouses. The area looks relatively deserted, not another soul in sight for some time, until they go to turn around and leave. That’s when there’s suddenly a group of fifteen some odd men standing in front of the open gate, hands filled with crowbars, aluminum bats, lengths of chain. Castiel stops the car 20 feet away, eyes taking in all the faces, remembering each and every one.

A man steps out from behind the center of the group, yellow tinted sunglasses glinting in the light. Castiel’s knuckles go white around the steering wheel.

“…Azazel,” he hisses, his lip curling back from his teeth at the sight of the smug smile on the greasy man’s face.

*

He's doing as he's told, noting down all the details Castiel takes notice of, a soft frown on his face.

“You know, I got a first name, too, partner,” he starts a little annoyed but is silenced almost instantly by the other man.

“No way,” Dean breathes but he's seen too many candids of the guy to not recognize him as the head of human trafficking in LA and probably the entire West Coast area.

They duck behind the dashboard and Dean feels his pulse rushing through his venes, his heart hammering away in his chest. This is great, fucking peachy. First day of work and after repeatedly pissing off his new partner he's probably gonna die a gruesome death after hours if not days of torture. Welcome to LA, buddy, PS – karma's a bitch!

“What do you think they're doing?” Dean mutters, honestly wondering why in gods name a criminal wanted for at least a dozen felonies decided taking a walk in broad daylight was a good idea.

*

“It’s called a show of force,  _Dean_ ,” he hisses from his crouched position, heart in his throat.

Their car is far from bullet proof, and even so, Castiel only has his 9mm on him, with only one extra magazine ready to be used. Fuck. He swallows hard, and then sits back up, staring stonily at Azazel, who merely grins and pulls something out of his pocket. Castiel stiffens when he realizes what it is- the tie Balthazar had been wearing when he was shot.

How the  _hell_  had Azazel gotten ahold of it?! They had been part of the clothing they’d collected for evidence at the god damn hospital. It had been in a paper bag, in a box, in storage at the precinct.

It dawns on Castiel then, and the realization is like being submersed in ice cold water.

“There’s a mole,” he whispers, even as Azazel swings the tie back and forth in front of him, Castiel’s eyes tracking it momentarily before darting back up to Azazel’s face.

“…There’s a mole in the force,” he repeats, and then guns it.

The car shoots forward, the thugs yelling out as they scatter, darting out of the way as Castiel plows past, crowbars and thick chain bouncing off the hood and trunk of the car with noisy clatters and scraps of metal on metal.

The bumper crunches into the ground as he takes the exit onto the street at 30 mph, and then is peeling out, burning rubber in an effort to get out of there before any of Azazel’s crew decides to open fire on them.

*

For a moment there he wants to grab Castiel's shoulders and shake him, maybe yell a little, ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing. But then there's all that adrenaline and the pent up frustration and yes, the desire pulsing through his body and instead of complaining Dean laughs. He throws his head back and cheers, nudging Castiel's shoulder as the older cop drives them out of the danger zone and he thinks he might even see the other man smile a little.

“Dude, that was awe- _ **some**_!”


	3. It's actually Tie-Dye (get it?)

They make it back to the precinct safe and sound and Castiel's out of the car before Dean's hand even touches the door handle. He follows the man inside, past a couple of colleagues who look partly startled, partly annoyed at the noisy entrance of the two of them. Chief Turner's in his office and Dean can see by the look on his face that this is not the first time Detective Novak comes rushing in without prior notice or warning.

“What's it this time, Novak,” he asks, his voice a tired sing-song and Dean furrows his brow in disbelief.

“Sir, we just got back from the warehouse district. Azazel was there and a group of his people. Detective Novak saw something that could move this investigation an enormous step forward.”

*

Castiel can’t stop the smile from coming to his lips, the rookie crowing like a rooster beside him, adrenaline pumping through his veins and the high of surviving when they’d been almost surrounded- yeah, he smiles. It’s gone just as quickly as it comes though, and his face smooths back out into his usual mask, void of all expression except maybe minor irritation with every single thing around him.

The drive back to the precinct is nothing, no cars following them thankfully, and Castiel thanks whatever angel was watching over them that they make it back without an ambush on some side street, AK-47s gunning them down as they were pinned in, front and back. It had happened to too many good cops during this investigation.

They would need to change cars after this, Castiel thinks, as he climbs out of the sedan and walks inside, eager to report what they’d seen to the Chief.  
  
Once inside though, all the urgency falls flat in the face of Chief Turner’s disdain, and Castiel can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of bitterness rise up inside him.

His partner had died on his watch, when he was supposed to have Balthazar’s back, he’d failed. And because of that failure, his best friend…his lover, was now six feet under and rotting. That is  _his_ fault. But he just can't stop the anger that comes up whenever the Chief just doesn’t give a shit anymore, which is more and more often these days.

Castiel is about to speak, to respond to the Chief’s stupid remark, when Dean speaks up instead. The breath is snatched from his lungs in surprise at the elegance of Winchester’s statement. It’s concise, almost exactly what Castiel himself would have said, given half a second more. Chief Turner turns and looks at Castiel, leaning back in his chair, eyebrows up in expectation.

“Well?” he asks, and Castiel swallows hard.

“It’s…a sensitive matter, Chief,” he says softly, eyes darting to the door, before walking and shutting it, the blinds over it following suit, to block out the rest of the office.

“…I think there’s someone on the inside, working for Azazel.”

“Wait…what? You think someone- one of our guys, is working with this scumbag?! That’s not an accusation to make lightly, Novak. What’s your proof?”

Castiel takes a deep breath and then lets it out, lips pressed thin before he speaks.

“Azazel had Balthazar’s tie. It was the one he was wearing the day he died.”

Turner makes a disbelieving face, snorts.

“So, what…Azazel had a tie that looked like Balthazar’s and now you think one of my cops is a mole?”

Castiel frowns hard, looking down at the ground.

“It was a one of a kind tie, Sir,” he bites out, fists clenching at his sides, “..I….we made it…,” he murmurs, eyebrows twitching together, before he looks up again.

“…wait…wait wait wait, are you talking that swirly purple monstrosity that he always wore on Tuesdays?” the Chief asks, and Castiel nods, jaw clenching. Turner is silent for a moment, rubbing a large, callused hand over the graying stubble on his jaw. He sighs softly, then nods.

“This doesn’t leave this room, boys. We need to keep this locked down tight. If Azazel has someone on the inside, we need to find out who it is, and we need to find out  _now_ ,” he points a finger out and taps his desk hard to emphasize the word ‘now’, before waving the same hand at Castiel and Dean.

“Go. You know how to handle this Novak. Don’t let me down.”

“We’ll need a new car, Sir. Azazel saw-“

“Yeah yeah, here,” he writes out a quick slip of paper and thrusts it at Castiel, who takes it and pockets it. “Go to the pool, pick out something a little heavier duty. Oh,” he pauses, and picks up something from a drawer, hands it to Dean with an amused look.

“Take that with you,” he says, and lets out an amused laugh as Castiel stares at the mirror in Dean’s hand, before grumbling about morons who can’t drive as he storms out of the office.

*

Dean doesn't dare to speak other than “Yes, sir” and “Of course, sir” until they're out of the room, heading towards Castiel's office just like they did this morning. It feels longer than just a few hours. Now when Dean looks at the other man he still sees anger and frustration and the occasional rush of pure and utter loathing. But there's also determination and strong-mindedness and in his bright blue eyes the spark of something Dean can't quite place yet.

He's not familiar with the force so Castiel spends the next few hours mapping out all members of it, not even leaving out the janitor and cleaning-lady. They cross-compare files, looking for similarities, any kind of connection really between each and every member of the force and every single known accomplice of Azazel and Co. Dean completely forgets time as he buries himself in files, losing the leather jacket and opening the first few buttons of his shirt for comfort after a while. When he looks up again the sky outside the tiny window is streaked with the dark pink and purple of the setting sun and Castiel is hunched over some hospital record.

Dean stifles a yawn and gets up, stretching his arms and legs lazily, trying not to eye his partner too obviously. Castiel is wearing reading glasses and this is so far from good, Dean doesn't even know anymore. This guy with his slender form, the dark messy hair and piercing blue eyes is pressing every kink button he could possibly have.  _Reading glasses_ , for christ's sake!

“Found anything?” he finally manages to ask fairly inconspicuously “Nada on my side.”

*

They end up spending the rest of the day inside, food ordered in around 2pm, and again around 7. The whole time Dean is actually…quiet. Respectful. It’s strange how different he could be once he had something to focus all that restless energy on, Castiel thinks as he hands Dean the fourth file to go through.

Castiel had let go of his hostility toward his new partner right around the time Dean got him a refill on his coffee without asking, somehow miraculously knowing that Castiel takes it black, with two huge spoonfuls of sugar, no cream. That, and sharing the second donut that Dean had bought at the coffee shop earlier in the day, had won Castiel over enough to at least be civil with the other man.

“What?” Castiel says, ripped from his thoughts as Dean stands up and speaks for the first time in two hours.

His mind is a whirl of names, numbers, dates and events, and it takes a moment for him to recall what Dean had just said.

“No…nothing so far,” he sighs, shoving the papers in front of him away. He glances at the time and sighs, frowning hard. It’s almost 8pm, and while the night shift is there, all the detectives had long gone home for the day.

“I think we’re done for today,” he announces as he stands up, stretching as well and letting out a soft groan at the stiffness of his back.

He walks around and finishes the last of his coffee from his mug, grimacing as the cold syrupy liquid hits his tongue. Ugh, too much sugar at the bottom of the cup. Castiel sets the mug back down in its proper place, and then shifts around the room, quickly pulling down a large poster of Los Angeles over the cork board they’d worked all afternoon on. He moves around Dean, brushing past and trying to ignore the jolt of heat in his lower abdomen when their hands brush- it’s like electricity, crackling up his arm and shooting straight to his crotch.

That’s the last thing I need, he thinks with a sigh, as he pulls down a different poster to hide a different board, this one a white board with Castiel’s scrawling script all across it, interspersed with Dean’s own slightly more legible text. He turns back around and nods at Dean, eyebrows coming up in expectation.

“Come on. Can’t lock the office until you’re out of it, Winchester. Unless you’d like to sleep on the couch, which I honestly don’t recommend.”

*

Dean sighs, then bends to pick up his jacket and wallet before following the other man outside the office and out on the street. His baby’s still where he left her this morning and he walks over, brushing one of his hands gently over her roof of the gleaming ’67 Chevrolet Impala. There’s an ugly scratch along the passenger side door but it’s comparatively small, nothing a bit of paint couldn’t fix. He looks up to find Castiel watching him contemplatively and suddenly remembers. Although the Chief gave him permission to pick out a new vehicle, due to the extensive research session that lasted until just now Castiel didn’t have a chance to actually take care of this. Tapping his fingertips over the smooth black surface of his car he nods at Castiel, motioning to come over.

“Come on, partner, I’ll give you a lift.”

There’s hesitation and a flash of distrust on Castiel’s face but Dean just clicks his tongue, shaking his head decisively.

“Don’t be silly, man, just get in.”

To his surprise Castiel stands there for just a moment longer, before opening the car door and sliding in. Dean smiles to himself, taking another long inhale of clear night air and getting in as well. Castiel pretty much guides him through the streets of Los Angeles and despite his constant commands of ‘Take a left here’ and ‘turn right on the next corner’ the drive is just as quiet as the prior two. It’s different though and Dean finds himself smiling as he thinks that, yes, Castiel may not be the most enjoyable person to work with but he’s not as closed up and hostile as he tries to seem.

When he drops off his new partner in front of an apartment building downtown and wishes him a good night, he could swear that while the other man doesn’t return the salutation, he sees Castiel’s lips actually curling into a small smile. On his way home he tries to ignore the scent of his car, Castiel’s scent, musky and pleasant and when he climbs into bed that night, he has a hard time chasing away the images of blue eyes and strong hands…

Two weeks pass and despite the tireless work and extra hours spent on the case there’s no real evidence, nothing promising, absolutely nothing. Dean has to admit, there’s been a moment or two when he couldn’t help but think Castiel got it all wrong. He went to have a beer with some of the guys after work and the later it got the more secrets spilled. About how amazing a detective Castiel had been and how paranoia and distrust had taken a hold of him ever since it happened. Since Balthazar was killed and Castiel’s world crumbled.

Dean doesn’t know why he didn’t pick up on it before. It all makes sense now, of course. The shabby coat, the mug, the empty wall - the self-made tie… Still, when Ash, a guy with probably the worst hair cut Dean has ever seen, talks about how losing Balthazar crushed Castiel, how he had a rage fit and beat some poor maintenance guy to a pulp, Dean’s eyes widen and a sudden rush of guilt washes over him. Only a few days ago he’d sat down on the edge of the desk, accidentally knocking over a framed picture and Castiel had looked at him like he had just drowned his favorite puppy. Nobody stated the obvious but by now Dean knows. They’d been a couple, Balthazar and Castiel.

Working with him gets a little easier with that knowledge but also a lot more complicated, now that he knows about Castiel’s sexual orientation. He’s pretty sure, there’s a special place in hell for people who lust after someone who had just lost the love of their life but it’s no use. When Castiel showed up cleanly shaven and dressed unfamiliarly sharp two days ago, Dean had to plop down in a chair and cross his legs before his partner spotted just how welcome this sight was. Actually, now that he thinks about it, working with Castiel might have gotten close to unbearable. And then there’s a moment a couple of days later when they’re having lunch at IHOP, Castiel picking around indecisively in his food and eventually wrapping his lips around some fries, when Dean decides to  _‘just screw it’_.

“Jesus, can you stop doing that?”

Castiel looks up at the sudden outburst, frowning softly at his partner, a silent question on his smooth features.

“This,” Dean motions to his hands on the table “That,” he points at where Castiel had just licked his lips “Everything! You’re so hot, Cas, it’s driving me nuts! You better watch out if you don’t want me jumping you right here, right now.”

*

The past two weeks with Dean have been…interesting, to say the least. The rookie has proved to be both an extreme annoyance, and strangely insightful. He’s a conundrum, because on the one hand Castiel wants to wrap his hands around Dean’s neck and throttle him 9 times out of 10…there’s that tenth time, when Castiel wants to put his hands on Dean’s body for other reasons.

It’s times like those that Castiel has to excuse himself from the room, and go for a walk to cool his head. He  _shouldn’t_  be feeling like this. Not so soon after Balthazar. Not for someone so god damn frustrating. Not for someone like Dean, with his cheeky grin and his loud laugh…it hurts how they were so alike sometimes, pulls at Castiel’s heart until he’s sure it’s going to pop right out of his chest, and go tagging along anywhere the rookie wanted to go. There are other times though, when it’s so obvious that Dean and Balthazar are almost polar opposites.

Dean talks about his family, almost non-stop. His little brother and his father, his family seems to be everything to the tanned man. Balthazar had been disowned by his family when he was 14, for being gay. He never got over it, and the bitter grudge he held had tainted parts of his life irreparably. Dean though, seems more than happy to talk for hours about his sharp-as-nails brother, Sam, his name is, and Castiel lets him. It’s strange to enjoy someone’s voice so much, and then want him to shut up in the next second.

The relationship between them is rocky, with moments of anger and frustration from Castiel’s side, and prodding and poking from Dean’s, which only makes the cycle continue. Dean would poke or prod, Castiel would snap, Dean would apologize, and Castiel would grudgingly accept it…and then they’d be okay again, for a little while. The worst part of it all for Castiel though, is that throughout all of it, he couldn’t help but start to look forward to seeing Dean’s face in the morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, waiting with a cup of coffee in hand just for Castiel.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by Dean’s voice; the other man’s snapping at him, and Castiel blinks before his eyes widen as what Dean is saying registers. He gapes at his partner for a second before a flush hits his cheeks, pinking the skin all the way up to the tips of his ears. He frowns and furrows his brow, looking down at his half empty plate.

“…Don’t mock me, Dean….,” he bites out, shoving his plate away from him and reaching for his wallet to take out a twenty and pay for his meal. This is the last thing he needs. Castiel knows that everyone on the force is aware of his sexual orientation; Balthazar hadn’t exactly been quiet about it when Castiel had agreed to move in with him two years ago. But that doesn’t give Dean the right to toy with him.  _Of course_  Dean had noticed the staring, of course. And now he’s poking fun at poor Castiel, the little gay Detective who’d lost his partner.

He bristles, mouth pinched in anger as he stands up abruptly, snapping at Dean.

“Let’s go, Winchester.”

*

Dean sits there for an endless moment, watching Castiel get up and storm off and it's only when the door falls shut behind him, that Dean catches up. He jumps up and follows, the other man already revving up the engine of their new car, a moss green Hyundai, and flooring the gas pedal as soon as Dean slipped inside.

It takes him two more tries – and a cup of tepid coffee thrown in his face even – to realize that Castiel wouldn't know the truth if it bit him in his firm ass. It's incredibly frustrating, the way he looks at Dean now. All defensive and hurt. And really, this is the last thing Dean had wanted. When things had been unbearable before, work turns into downright torture. The case is still open and there's still zero leads and this only intensifies Castiel's anger.

It's Friday night and Castiel had called yet another research session and Dean can't, he just can't read those files anymore.

„There's nothing in 'em, goddammit,“ he says kneading his temples and getting up off his chair, the glare his partner directs in his direction just the right side of scary. „You wanna spend your free time in this lousy office, fine, be my guest. But it's no use and we both know that. You got to pull yourself together, Cas – we'll find a way to track that son of a bitch down.“

*

Life has basically become an endless cycle of wakeup, go to work, deal with Dean and his incessant flirting while trying to sort through a maze of dead ends, go home, and crash. Wash, rinse, repeat. Castiel is exhausted. He spends almost his whole hour in therapy talking about the frustration of  _knowing_  there’s a mole, and not being able to find them. The Doc is kind, but firm, in reminding Castiel that it's only been a few months (four now, Castiel's mind helpfully supplies), and he’s allowed to be paranoid...but that he needs to keep in mind that he might have seen what he wanted to see in the tie that Azazel had brandished at him. That the mocking smile might have been all in his head.

He leaves her office at that, storms out and swears he's not going back.

The Chief says otherwise.

Another week passes, and despite rebuking him time and time again, Dean is still there, leering and flirting and sometimes, in rare quiet moments, being downright charming. Castiel thinks he hates those the most.

They've been at it all day again when Dean throws a fit, standing up and declaring that he's done, that it’s pointless, and Castiel feels the tenuous grasp he'd had on his temper snap.

"Fine, Winchester. Get the fuck out. I don't need your help on this...I was fine before you came along, and I'll be fine after the Chief finally realizes his mistake, and transfers you somewhere else."

His tone is colder than he means it to be, but once the words are out there, he can't take them back; instead he rolls with it, standing up and walking over to the door to yank it open, gesturing for Dean to leave, bare forearms revealed by the rolled up sleeves of his button up shirt. He raises his eyebrows at Dean in a move that Dean knew by now meant something akin to  _‘well, idiot?’_

*

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd like that, would you?”

Dean is half amused, half pissed at how Castiel treats him, the way he insults and degrades him time and time again, and how he keeps trying to find reasons for Dean to leave. But nu-uh, forget it. He's not getting rid of Dean that easily.

“You always do that, you know? You always need to be right, you need to be in charge and everybody else has to dance after your pipe – well sorry but I'm not buying it.”

He spreads his arms in a gesture that he knows is provocative beyond compare and he can see Castiel boiling with rage.

“You can't just keep pushing people away, Cas. No matter how many times you try, I'm not leaving, I'm not giving you that.”

He takes a deep breath and walks around the desk, one of his hands on the table top, the other slowly, carefully reaching out to touch the other man's arm. Castiel is shaking ever so slightly and once more a feeling of ice-cold guilt creeps through Dean's body and he has to close his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, Cas is looking up at him with eyes that glow with fury, but Dean just can't stop the words from coming.

“You're just a scared little boy who doesn't know how to live on his own.”

*

“Fuck. YOU.”

Castiel seethes, teeth clenched tight and lips pulled back in rage. He’d never met anyone as infuriating as Dean, not in his whole life. Even at his worst, Balthazar never got under his skin like this, made him this blindly angry.

“You don’t know me, Winchester,” he hisses, eyes narrowing as his brow furrows down, neck tight with tension. This isn’t happening. He isn’t going to let this stupid rookie, this fucking  _kid_  get to him.

“You don’t know, what they did, what  _he_  did….I watched him  _die_  Dean,” he says quickly, snapping the words out as he steps toward Dean, until they’re practically chest to chest, Castiel looking up the inch or so into Dean’s eyes, hands coming up to grip at Dean’s jacket, fist around the leather fabric.

“You don’t have a fucking  _clue_  what I’ve been through! I watched him die- I couldn’t save him, Dean! It was MY fault, MY FUCKING FAULT and I…I-“

He chokes off, the words bringing burning tears to his eyes, chin quivering in anger and sorrow both. Castiel shoves Dean away from him with a hurt noise, bringing a hand up to scrub over his face as he turns away.

“Get the fuck out,” he says softly, his back to Dean now.

Castiel just wants to be left alone, to remember how badly he’d fucked up by letting Balthazar go in alone, by actually listening to the idiot when he’d said to ‘stay there’. He should have followed him, should have checked ahead and behind. Castiel could have _saved him_ , if he’d just acted, instead of listening to Balthazar. He could have saved him, but he didn’t. And now he has to pay the price; he doesn’t get to have friends or family like Dean does, and he certainly doesn’t deserve to have another partner. That is just another chance to fuck up. To get someone else killed.

*

There it is. The undeniable, the painful truth. Castiel's truth. Dean can't say he's surprised about the self-hatred and blame that drips of the other man's every word but he sure as hell will not stand here and listen to it quietly.

„I won't,“ he simply says and the way Castiel doesn't even look up at him anymore just proves how tired he is of all this, how desperate to be alone, to wallow in self-pity and sorrow with no one there to save him „I won't,“ Dean says again and steps closer, both hands on Castiel's shoulders now, holding him softly, his voice nothing but a gentle whispering breath on his partner's skin.

„It's not your fault, Cas...it's Azazel's...and he's gonna pay, we're gonna make sure of it.“

*

Castiel stiffens when Dean touches him, calls him ‘Cas’ yet again like it’s his right. His breath hitches in his throat, and then he’s wrenching away out of Dean’s burning touch, shoving the other man away from him.

“Don’t TOUCH me!” he shouts, whirling around to glare at Dean, eyes fury filled and red rimmed.

This isn’t  _Dean’s_  fight, it’s Castiel’s. And he’s not going to let Dean distract him from it anymore. He’d wasted enough time by now, and maybe the Chief couldn’t see it, but Castiel could.

Dean is no good for him. And he’s no good for Dean.

*

When Castiel pushes him away, for a split second Dean thinks he should have seen it coming. He stumbles backwards with a look of sheer surprise on his features. Uneasiness washes over him with cold and cruel certainty as he crashes into the desk, hip colliding with the corner of it painfully. He only fully realizes what happens when it's too late. Like in slow-motion the white ceramic mug swivels on the edge and Dean can't do anything, he can't tear his gaze away but he can't move a single muscle. The cup crashes to the ground with a clang, a brutal, a final sound and Dean knows that this is something he can’t make up for, this is the  _one_  thing he can never replace.

„...“

He tries to speak but words fail him. Castiel is white as chalk and Dean slowly raises a trembling hand towards him

„...Cas I'm...I'm so sorry, I-“

*

Castiel instantly regrets it, as moments after he shoves Dean away from him, there’s the squeal of his desk being bumped several inches over, and then the shatter of something falling and breaking. He knows what it is without turning around, but can’t help it, it’s like a car wreck, he has to look.

He’s right of course, that the thing that was now broken across the worn cracked tiles of the floor was his ‘best detective in the world’ mug. The pieces lay in a puddle of cold, dark brown coffee, the ceramic shards so tiny there was no way he could put them back together. The mental image flashes through his head, of a young girl aged 8 or 9, writing on a plain mug from the break room and presenting it to Castiel as if it was the biggest diamond in the world. Her smile was warm and open, and he could see how happy she was, even under the ripped, dirty clothes, the filth and bruises on her face.

She had been the first person they’d rescued from the human trafficking ring. She’d been their first break together, his and Balthazar’s. The image of the girl fades and is replaced with Balthazar’s pouting face as he asked her where his cup was, and she had just put her tiny hands on her hips and pouted right back at him.

“YOU don’t get one,” she’d sassed, and Balthazar had just laughed, and laughed and laughed. The sound echoes in his head, and Castiel can feel the tears drip down his cheeks as he stares at the broken pieces of the cup, the shards of the life he was supposed to have dashed on the floor.

He slowly shuts his eyes, closing out the pain, and lets the numbness flood back in. He’d depended on it so much since Balthazar had died, used it to stop the pain if only for a minute, to calm the rage inside him. He clings to it like a lifeline as he speaks, his voice robotic and cold.

“…Get out,” he whispers, turning his back on Dean once more.

*

'Get out,' Castiel says and Dean feels cold.

'Get out.'

So Dean does.


	4. Fire in the Taco Bell (What even does that mean?)

The next days are cruel. Dean only wishes Castiel would yell at him, would shake him or punch him. Anything would be better than the indifference he's chastising him with. It's not even that Castiel ignores him or gives him the silent treatment, no. When he greets him with a small and barely audible 'Morning' the next day Dean almost falls over, for just a second wondering if what he remembered from last night actually happened. It did, of course, the bright red 'Bank of America' giveaway mug that replaced the cherished piece too flamboyant to be overlooked.

Dean tries talking to him, well, he's thinking about trying, but Castiel's behavior throws him off enough to forget whatever lame apology he can think of. The way he locks himself into his office during lunch, how he stays behind long after everybody else left – all of this stifles Dean's every hope of ever getting him to talk normally to him.

*

“But, Sir,” Castiel begins, only to be cut off with a quick glare and a hand held up with silence.

“Novak. You’re one of, if not  _the_  best detective I’ve got. That doesn’t mean you’re above regulation, rules, or my law.”

Castiel sighs softly and slumps back against the backrest of the chair he’s in.

“You’ve been skipping your appointments with your therapist. You’re sullen and moody, and you snap at everyone. No one  _likes_  you anymore Castiel.”

The truth is hard to hear, but it’s even worse when you already knew it yourself, and someone else was just poking at a wound that was festering, and refusing to heal. He grimaces and frowns, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“…Castiel…you’ve gotta change…this can’t go on. Look, I gave Winchester to you because he’s a rookie. He needs your experience…but you need his enthusiasm. You’ve just…given up. On  _everything_ , everything but some twisted sense of revenge.”

Castiel’s jaw clenches and he sits up straighter, glaring at the Chief before the man arches one eyebrow.

“Well? Go on then. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Castiel opens his mouth once, then snaps it shut, frowning again as he looks down at his lap once more.

“…Make peace with Winchester. Go to your therapy sessions. Catch the sonofabitch who killed Jones. In that order. Now get out of here. I’ve got a meatball sub on its way and you’ve got some kissing and making up to do.”

Castiel leaves the Chief’s office and stalks over to his, stopping in the doorway to glare at Dean for a moment, before frowning.

“Winchester. Let’s go.”

He nods his head and then grabs his coat, headed for the door, and a long overdue beer.

*

He barely got time to drop his burger, Castiel is already out the door and on his way to the car. Once again Dean feels more than a little queasy about getting into the car with his partner and with a small and bitter smile he remembers that first day and how he'd joked about Castiel getting rid off him in that deserted warehouse district. Cas doesn't drive anywhere near that part of the city that afternoon, instead stops the car in front of a relatively unimpressive bar named simply 'Purgatory'.

"Charming," Dean mutters under his breath but can't help the little laugh at Castiel's twisted sense of humor.

The interior is dimly lit and very sparsely furnished. There's a music box in the corner and a broken pool table, some tables and chairs and a bar, which is where Castiel heads, still not having said a single word. Dean sinks down on one of the shaky bar stools slowly, turning his head curiously towards the other man.

"Are we...meeting someone here?" he whispers, trying to check out the few other people in the bar as inconspicuous as possible.

*

Castiel takes his seat at the bar, the seat he'd been occupying at least once a week since well before Balthazar's murder. The owner of the place, a built man with a thick Southern accent named Benny, comes over to them, nodding to Castiel once and waiting until they've placed their orders.

Castiel can't help but let out a huff at Dean's words, and deadpans out a reply which only makes Benny chuckle low before he turns away.

"Just meeting an acquaintance or two. Jose. Possibly Johnny or Jim."

*

It’s embarrassing how long it takes Dean to get what Castiel is saying, the penny only dropping when the bartender shoots them a grin and pours the liquor. It’s just…Castiel is good at so many things – but up until now Dean hadn’t thought humor to be one of them. The way his lips curl into a triumphant smile as he nods at the guy handing him a glass of whiskey, is just so  _not Castiel_. As Dean watches the other man take a sip he tries to figure out why Castiel took him here,  _him_  out of everyone. He waits for him to say something, anything but after another couple of minutes the question just tumbles out of his mouth.

“What are we doing here, Novak?”

Even after a week of calling him that, the name still tastes strange and unfamiliar on Dean’s tongue. He doesn’t like it.

“It’s only 5pm. We should just go back, I’m sure there’s at least a dozen files we only went through three times.”

He can’t bite back the sarcasm and is surprised when Castiel doesn’t react as he usually would. Instead he slides another glass of liquor over to him, looking at him expectantly. Dean stares back for another couple of seconds before deciding to call it a day eventually. The liquid running down his throat is bitter and warmth starts spreading throughout his whole body almost instantly. He drinks the glass in only three gulps and puts it back on the counter.

They don’t talk much in the beginning, Castiel ordering a new round whenever their glasses are empty and a couple of hours and if you asked Dean  _at least_ a bottle of every hard liquor he can think of, they're both absolutely wasted. The bar is pretty busy by now and they had to scoot closer together as the seats at the counter got occupied one by one – but Dean is more than happy to follow Cas to an empty booth at the other end of the room. Dean hasn’t forgotten about what happened at the office a few days ago but in his drunk state he just can’t stop himself from cooing and flirting like crazy. He’s dropping his head on the Castiel’s shoulder, breathing him in and miraculously Castiel seems to be drunk enough to not punch him in the face.

“You smell nice,” he whispers with a blissful smile on his lips and his hand finds Castiel’s on the table, fingers gently brushing over the warm skin.

*

The evening goes surprisingly well. Castiel thinks it’s heavily in thanks to the amount of liquid courage they’ve both been downing, but he doesn’t find Dean nearly as annoying now. The flirtation though, does seem to pick back up, and after the fourth ‘how you doin’?’ joke, he stops trying to stay even remotely lucid, and just goes with it.

Three hours later, and Castiel is more intoxicated than he’s possibly ever been, other than right after Balthazar’s death. He’s actually snickering at Dean’s jokes now, and joking right back, deadpan and straight faced, until they both burst into muffled giggles. Benny is rolling his eyes as he keeps bringing them beer after beer after shot after shot, but he doesn’t kick them out because Castiel’s secluded them in a booth toward the back. It’s his own little secret; the booth is the closest to the bathroom, and he honestly feels like he might throw up a few times tonight.

He also doesn’t feel bad about that fact.

Dean’s voice brings him back to the present, and out of glaring down the neck of his empty Corona.

“What?” he slurs, eyebrows dancing on his forehead before settling into a furrowed position. He smells good? Castiel sniffs himself and then frowns a little harder.

“I smell like me,” he replies, and then feels a jolt when Dean’s hand brushes over his. The touch of the man’s fingers is like electricity, sending tingling pleasure up his entire hand and then straight down into his crotch, where it lingers and builds. Castiel swallows hard at that, gaping slightly at Dean, before he’s yanked out of losing himself in the man’s eyes by someone kicking the jukebox in the corner, which scratches, and then blares to life.

_Fire in the disco_

_Fire in the taco bell_

_Fire in the disco_

_Fire in the gates of hell_

Castiel flushes bright red, and clarity comes in like dawn, breaking over him in a wash of heat and warmth. He’s embarrassed suddenly, because he realizes he’s been  _letting_  Dean flirt with him, and practically encouraging it. He licks his lips and yanks his hand out of Dean’s grasp, frown back in full force on his face.

“…Stop…,” he mutters, only to have to look away from Dean’s confused face.

“What?...Cas?”

“Don’t  _mock me_ ,” he hisses, slamming a hand down on the table and sneering at Dean. “It’s fun…right? T..To mock the gay guy? To flirt with him…see how fa-far you can get?” He’s stuttering, slurring, his words barely making it past his lips.

“Fuck you, Dean,” Castiel hisses again, and then throws himself to his feet, headed for the back door, and the alleyway he knows is just beyond. He feels like he's going to throw up any second, and the song playing only seems to be making his head spin and pound simultaneously.

_Danger! Danger!_

_High voltage!_

_When we touch, when we kiss!_

A memory comes unbidden to him then, of Balthazar singing this exact song, laughing and shimmying along the edge of a pool in a ridiculous speedo during the one vacation they managed to take together. Castiel slams open the back door with a growl and explodes out into the alleyway, spinning around and clinging to the cool brick as his world kept turning.

*

Dean is out only seconds after, standing just a few feet away and watching Castiel's shoulders rise and fall frantically.

“I'm not  _mocking_ you, Cas,” he exclaims, grabbing the other man's shoulder and yanking him around, searching his face for some sort of sign, hoping, praying that he would finally understand.

Everything seems to spin around him and Dean has to shut his eyes for a moment, just to make sure he won't faint.

“I told you, you make me go crazy – and I know I fuck up everything but this is real, this is- Cas, you have no idea what you're doing to me.”

*

Castiel’s chest heaves as he struggles to get his feelings under control, everything inside him bubbling up to the surface. And then Dean’s there, touching him, and the spark flies through him once more, heated and so god damn wonderful that he can’t stop himself from pushing into it for a split second. The second passes though, and then Castiel is pushing Dean away, shoving him up against the filthy brick wall with a thud and an explosion of forced air out of Dean’s lungs.

“ _I_  make  _YOU_  crazy!?” he asks with a sarcastic laugh, sneering at Dean and shoving him against the wall again, hands fisted around the man’s jacket.

“Do you…Do you have ANY idea what it’s like to work with you?!” He yells, shaking Dean with his hands. His eyes flicker back and forth between Dean’s own, as he’s too close now to be able to focus on both, his body shoved up against Dean’s to pin him to the wall.

“You flirt with me…like it  _means_  something…even t-though I treat you like crap. Why Dean? Why are you doing this to me?! I-…f..fuck, I just wanted to be left  _alone_!”

His voice quiets down slightly, and he swallows down the bile building at the back of his throat, the dizzyness that’s making itself known once more. Castiel sighs, his hands loosening around Dean’s jacket and he takes a single step backward, out of Dean’s space.

“…You don’t get to do this to me…c..come into my world like this and change everything. I was f-fine on my own, Dean,” Castiel says, his head dropping down slightly, eyes down cast. “I don’t want to want you like this,” he says, opening his hands and letting go of Dean’s shirt, fingers stiff from how tight he’d been holding on.

*

With all the things Castiel does and says in those seemingly endless minutes, there's only one thing Dean hears.

“You don't want to...,” he starts, blinking at the other man incredulously as the words sink in “Cas, you want...you want me..!?”

His back aches from how Castiel had shoved him back against the brick wall and his legs are wobbly but he takes a step towards him anyway, hands coming up to wrap around Castiel's wrists gently.

“ _Cas...”_

*

The nickname had been hated the first few times it slipped out of Dean’s lips.

‘ _Hey Cas, more coffee?’_  had been greeted with a snarl.  _‘Cas, look at this note..’._  brought a glare, and  _‘Cas man, two for one at the donut shop, awesome!’_  had been met with a roll of his eyes. Somewhere along the way though, the word ‘Cas’ had stopped bringing up feelings of anger and resentment, and started making Castiel feel…cared for. Trusted.

Wanted.

He swallows hard at Dean’s words, and jumps slightly, the other man’s hands like brands around his wrists, skin burning where Dean touches him. He looks back up at Dean quickly, eyes flashing with something close to fear, but closer still to raw need, and it’s only a second before he gives in to the pounding inside his body, the throb that screams  _‘touch him’_.

Castiel shoves Dean back against the wall, but this time he follows through, crushing their lips together in a firm, hard kiss. He groans against Dean’s lips, opening his mouth up instantly and licking against the other’s velvet skin, the seam of Dean’s own lips opening on a gasp, which Castiel takes full advantage of. He pushes his body flush against Dean’s, pinning the slightly taller man in place, the dank stench of the alleyway fading away into the background as his nose is full of nothing but Dean’s aftershave, smooth and mellow, something like irish spring with a touch of old spice maybe.

Castiel doesn’t think on it too long, his mind too busy trying to just comprehend the pleasure that's creeping in with every delve of his tongue into Dean’s mouth, nip of teeth on each other’s lips, groan that he pulls from the other’s throat. He's hard now, pressing the length of his cock against Dean’s through their slacks, the material barely concealing anything, certainly not enough to mask how much this, how much  _Dean_ , affects him.

*

For a moment they just stand there, staring at each other, the air in between them thick and moist and charged with so much tension Dean feels like he's gonna be sick. And then Castiel moves and it's fast and hard and Dean is pressed back against that stupid wall but he couldn't care less because Cas' mouth is on his and they're breathing the same air and his legs are still shaking but for all the right reasons.

His hands come up to curl around Castiel's neck, stroke the side of his neck, nails scraping over the older man's scalp, as Dean opens up his mouth for him, let's him take take take. God, he pushes against Dean, holds him in place, desperate, like he's drowning. They part for just a second, breathy panting the only sound in the dark alley, then they crash together again. This time though Dean doesn't hold back. He pushes forward, pelvis sliding so goddamn perfectly against Castiel's and he drinks every small sound the other man makes hungrily.

There's zero resistance when Dean spins them around, pressing Castiel against the wall now, as he kisses down his neck, gently biting his collarbone, fingers of his one hand popping open the first few buttons of his shirt, while the other hand's busy rubbing against Castiel's crotch.

*

Castiel lets out a startled gasp when Dean flips their positions, and suddenly it’s his back that’s pressed up against a wall, and fuck- he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be pinned, to give up control to someone else and just let them take everything from you. He shudders as Dean kisses his neck, and can’t stop his hands from grabbing at Dean’s short hair, wishing for more to hang on to when Dean  _bites_  him and he keens with the pain, delicious and sharp as it spikes down his spine and throbs in his cock.

“Fuck,” Castiel gasps softly, hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth leather of Dean’s jacket, gripping at his shoulders finally. Dean’s hand pushing against his cock shocks him, and his hips stutter forward as Castiel grunts, fingers creaking in the leather, head thrown back to thud dully against the brick behind him.

“Fuck,” he repeats again, “Dean…I-…”

Castiel’s body is tight, muscles quivering and stomach heaving with each panted breath- he’s so fucking close he can taste it, the orgasm just out of reach, but with every confident stroke over his pants Dean gives him he jolts forward up the cliff, just seconds from falling.

It’s strange what can bring you out of a drunken, lust haze. For Castiel, it’s Dean kissing his adam’s apple; the memory of Balthazar doing exactly the same thing the day he was killed comes flooding back, vivid and bitter sweet, so strong he even smells Balthazar’s cologne over Dean’s scent for a moment.

He chokes on a sob and flails, struggling for a second before shoving Dean away from him, coughing and retching as he stumbles a few steps away, before falling to his knees on the wet pavement and puking up everything that's in his stomach. Castiel heaves until there’s nothing left, until he’s coughing from the pain of it and his stomach muscles are sore. Even with the taste of vomit in his mouth and the reek of it in his nose, he can still somehow taste Dean, feel phantom touches on his skin, and it only makes him wretch again.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up bad.

*

He doesn't realize what's happening until he hears Castiel sobbing and wretching, registers the crumpled, trembling figure on the ground. He's beside him immediately, a hand gently brushing over Castiel's back as the other man keeps coughing. He's thrown off his feet when Castiel skids backwards, away from him, a look of sheer terror on his pale face and all the warmth that kissing and touching him had flooded his body with is gone suddenly.

“What's wrong?” he asks, his voice soft and careful and somehow he thinks he knows the answer already.

*

Castiel shakes his head, and then instantly regrets it as his vision swims and black dots appear to dance across the alleyway’s dismal scenery. He swallows hard and wipes at his mouth; Castiel could deal with the foul taste for a moment longer before he got up to go back inside.

“I can’t,” he explains softly, arms hanging limp and hands flopped in his lap, over his flagging erection.

“We can’t,” he clarifies then, and sighs as he shifts to stand up, his back pressed against the brick wall. Castiel waves Dean’s hands off, frowning slightly and stepping away from his partner, back toward the door to the bar.

*

And that's it. Just like that. Castiel gets up on shaky legs and Dean can't move, can't stop or follow him, his words dying somewhere in his throat. That's it.

He doesn't know how long he sits there on the cold ground, his jeans soaked from the puddle of rain water he's kneeling in and he doesn't remember how he gets home either. He just falls into bed, his head spinning and pounding and swimming with the memory of Cas...  _Cas_. Cas' lips, Cas' neck, Cas' tongue...

Dean groans, hands fidgeting to work his fly open under the thin bedspread. His cock obviously doesn't seem to care for what happened as Dean is both incredibly frustrated and undeniably hard. The heel of his hand rubs down his length and Dean throws his head back, a strained moan dripping from his lips.

“nhggoddammit, Cas,” is all he manages.

From then it's all noises, needy and pained and when Dean reaches climax, hand wrapped tightly around himself, his body writhing helplessly on the mattress, he screams Castiel's name.

*

Castiel stumbles back inside and pays their bill, grimacing when it’s well over $100, even with his usual discount that Benny gives him for being the cop who saved Benny’s life some time ago. He heads home in a cab, leaving his car there on the street to pick up the next morning.

It’s easy to strip and crawl into bed after doing a handful of advil and a glass of water, but by the way his head is still swimming he knows he’s going to have a vicious hang over in the morning. The last thought before he passes out is that he hopes Dean got home okay…and if he was any sort of decent person, he’d have made sure of that himself.


	5. Never Trust a Shrink

Castiel wakes up to blinding light and even worse pain; the hangover of the century hitting him square between the eyes. He calls in and uses one of his abundant sick days, the Chief grunting out that Castiel didn’t sound sick, he sounded hung over, before hanging up without another word.  
  
Sometimes, it really sucked when your boss was that astute.

*

It's not that Dean's not hungover. Because  _boy_ is he. Nevertheless he hauls himself to work the next morning – late as fuck but still – in the hope of seeing Cas, of talking some sense into him. But Cas isn't there. Dean sits motionless at the desk for a full hour, staring at the door and waiting, until Ash shows up to tell him Cas called in sick.

The day goes on excruciatingly slow, every minute dragging like an hour, and Dean finds his eyes shutting and his head crashing onto the desk several times. By 4pm that afternoon he decides to call it a day and drives back home. Despite how tired he'd felt all day he doesn't sleep well at all that night, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling until his eyes start to burn.

He's on time the next day and once again finds the office empty. Sighing he sinks down on the chair, reaching for a pile of mail that the new intern, Andy, had dropped off.

*

There’s a clink as Castiel sets down a mug in front of Dean, the coffee made just the way he takes it. He grunts at Dean in greeting and then puts down a bag of donuts as well before shutting the door to their office, the blinds flipped closed right afterward as usual. It's almost a ritual by now, the only difference being that their roles are switched 180 degrees.

Castiel walks around to the other side of the desk, where Dean is sitting, and then drags the rolling chair back, Dean coming with it of course.

“Move, Winchester. You’re in my seat,” he says with a put upon sigh, lips pressed thin in annoyance at Dean.

He’d made a deal with himself that morning; he’d be nicer to Dean, in apology for leading him on, and letting things go to a place they could never go to again. Hopefully that would keep Dean from absolutely hating his guts, and wanting to tear him a new one. Castiel winces as he thinks about what that would be like, considering Dean’s silver tongue. It wouldn’t be pretty, he knew that much.

“Find anything?”

*

The casualness of it all startles Dean beyond compare. He lets Castiel pull back the chair, gets up even, his movements slow, almost automatic. But when he simply asks if there's any progress, guiding conversation over to the safe subject of work, Dean snaps. He swings the chair around to make Castiel, who sat down on it right after Dean had gotten up, face him again.

“Don't pull this shit on me, Cas,” he says and anger's dripping from his every word “Don't act like nothing happened. It happened alright, and yes we were drunk but don't you dare telling me you didn't mean it!”

And Castiel's just sitting there, calmly looking up at him and Dean just wants to either beat him unconcious or kiss him until his stupid face turns blue.

*

Castiel sits down and starts pulling out files, the ones he thinks they may have missed something on. He didn’t like the look of that Ruby in Vice…but she had hardly anything to do with his division. He frowns as he flips through the papers, before suddenly he’s being swung around, forced to face Dean, something he hadn’t wanted to do. Ever.

Castiel swallows hard, his eyes wide as he stares at his partner, the man biting out words at him, eyes furious and even more gorgeous than usual with the fire that lights them, inside out. Castiel chokes down the urge to grab Dean and kiss him again, forces it down like a broken jack in the box, shoving until it’s squashed.

“It doesn’t matter if it meant something or not Dean,” he says calmly, slowly standing up until they’re on even ground, both men practically the same height now. Castiel’s face is blank, expressionless as he speaks again.

“It’s not going to happen again.”

*

There's so many things Dean wants to say to him. Like 'Are you so sure about that?' or 'You're a fucking coward, you know that?' and 'This isn't over'. What he says instead isn't angry or provocative but hurt.

“It meant something to _me_.”

And despite everything that's going on in his head in this very moment, Dean leaves it at that. He moves to the other end of the room, slumping down on one of the boxes and pulling a pile in his lap, avoiding to look at Castiel as much as he could for the rest of the day. He rushes out of the office without 'goodbye' and the 15 minute ride back home turns into an hour of directionless driving around.

He doesn't flirt anymore now, in fact keeps conversation between them strictly business-related. It's so goddamn hard when every time he looks at Cas all he can see is sweaty skin and messy hair, all he hears is rough breathing and quiet pleas of 'Dean, Dean...'

*

The next few weeks are…hard…to say the least. Every second he’s around Dean it grinds on his nerves. Somehow, Dean being angry with him is even worse than nonstop flirtation and stupid jokes. Castiel knows it’s because now there’s nothing to fill the void that Balthazar left in the room, whereas before Dean had been doing his damnest to not only fill it, but make it his own.

And the worst part is that Castiel almost wanted to take it all back, and let him. A huge part of him still wanted to press Dean into the edge of the desk, kiss him again and again until Dean fell apart under his fingers, until there was nothing but hot, slick noises and his name said in that gorgeous, sweet voice. There was another part of him that still wanted to go back to the Chief and tell him that the deal was off, he’d had enough; that it was either get rid of Dean, or he was going to quit. He knew that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do that though. He wouldn’t be on the case anymore, and even beyond his annoyances with Dean and the vibrating tension that coasted between them like sharks circling, just waiting to bite, he knew that the case was more important than anything.

If he could figure out the mole, he’d have at least one person partially responsible for Balthazar’s death. And that was a start.

Cas sets down the sandwich he’d brought Dean from the break room, something with loads of salami and cheese, dripping in hot mustard. He personally went for turkey and swiss on rye, but the way Dean’s face lit up, even for a split second, at the food is worth the spicy scent that lingers in the air, long after the sandwich was gone.

“…Got word from the Chief just now,” he says softly, because even though the door was closed, there was still precautions to be taken with this information.

“You know that witness we met with a month or so back?...She’s dead. Azazel-..actually…Alastair, got to her. Some kids found her late last night. Took this long to get an ID.”

*

Dean looks up from his laptop, a frown appearing on his face. He knows that in this job pain and death are his everyday companions. It doesn't make it less hard though, learning that a person they knew, even if it was only for a couple of minutes they talked to them, was dead. Gone, just like that. Dean just can't help feeling guilty, like he didn't do his job, like it's his fault she had to die.

Alastair.

The name leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. Tall, gaunt and with a face like a skull, empty, cruel eyes and long ruthless fingers Alastair is one of Azazel's pet weapons. Dean purses his lips as he imagines how the tormented corpse had probably scarred the poor kids for life. One long cut from forehead to bellybutton, the skin wrapped back like a duvet, baring succulent red meat, the teeth the only thing that isn't red, unveiled like a grotesque obnoxious mask of terror. The first time Dean had witnessed the results of Alastair's work he'd vomitted and the memory of it still isn't a fond one.

He gulps, realizing he'd been quiet, staring into nothingness ever since Castiel told him about what happened. Slowly he nods, putting the laptop aside and getting up.

“We have to find the mole,” he says matter of factly and strides over to the boxes of records and evidence.

That night it's Castiel who leaves before him, Dean staying up until sundawn and falling asleep on the file of Castiel's therapist.

Some noise outside the office wakes him up and when he opens his eyes against the too bright morning sun, the first thing he sees is her name.

'Masters, Meg', he reads, letting the by now familiar name sink in as he's yawning and stretching.

Masters.

_Masters..._

He's up and awake with a jolt, almost stumbling over his own feet as he hurries over to the opposite side of the office, pushing box after box out of the way, papers and little plastic bags shuffling to the ground but he doesn't care. When he pulls the file he's been searching for out of the depths of the very bottom cardboard box, Dean almost screams in delight.

'Masters Forwarding' it reads on a record of companies mentioned in a contract with the warehouse Balthazar was killed in.

The office is still empty and Dean glances on his wristwatch. It's 5.30am. Cas is probably – most likely – asleep. But Dean just can't wait another second, they wasted too much time already. He grabs his coat, pulling his cell out of the pocket and pressing the speed dial key.

“Cas, it's me – I did it, I found the mole!"

He slams the door shut behind him, dashing down the corridor, past the Chief's office and out the front door. “You won't believe it, Cas. I'm on my way to your place right now, you better be awake when I'm there, I swear y-”

For a moment all he sees is slightly blurry, stars dancing in front of his eyes. Then the pain kicks in, his legs give out and he collapses onto the floor.

“Tss tss tss,” a greasy voice is hissing and an ice-cold fear pulls Dean in a numbing embrace “You really shouldn't be up this early, Dean.”

The last thing he registers before everything turns black is a pair of long skeletal hands digging in the space underneath his arms and pulling him up in the back of a car...


	6. Alastair's a Total Dick

The next morning Castiel wakes up to his alarm at 6am, and grunts as he reaches out, blindly smacking the alarm clock until it shuts the fuck up. He rolls over and sleeps another fifteen minutes, before the alarm blares again, and this time Castiel gets up. His phone blinks with a voicemail, but he ignores it in favor of showering and getting dressed.

Once he showers he feels a little more human, and ends up shuffling his way into the kitchen to grab himself some coffee, phone in hand. While he pours the coffee Castiel lets the voicemail run on speaker, mixing in his sugar slowly as he listens.

“Cas, it's me – I did it, I found the mole!” Dean’s voice is coming out clear a day from the voicemail, his tone excited, almost jittery with energy. “You won't believe it, Cas. I'm on my way to your place right now, you better be awake when I'm there, I swear y-”

There’s the sound of a crack then, something thick and heavy hitting something much lighter, and then the sound of someone falling to the floor. A clattering sound comes across, and Castiel realizes that Dean must have fallen, and dropped the phone.

“Tss tss tss,” a different voice comes across, and Castiel’s head whips up, eyes wide as he grabs the phone and presses it to his ear to hear better, turning off speakerphone with a quick swipe of his finger.

“You really shouldn't be up this early, Dean,” the voice continues, and chills run up Castiel’s spine.

He’s heard that voice before. He knows who it is there, in the voicemail with Dean.

“Alastair,” he croaks out, just as the voicemail continues.

“What’s this?...Oh…you’ve called Detective Novak….pity. Well, he-lloooo Castiel…I haven’t spoken to you in months…not since I took care of your  _last_  partner. How utterly delicious that it’ll be happening again….Ta-ta,” he sing songs, and then the voicemail ends.

Castiel is out the door and in his car in the next two seconds, siren blaring as he speeds to the station, shrieking at the dispatch officer to “get the Chief on the horn NOW!”

He couldn’t do this again, lose another partner to that sadistic  _freak_. He wouldn’t.

Not again.

*

There's a minute or so of blissful oblivion when Dean comes to. Only when he opens his eyes and the murderous headache kicks right in realization follows momentarily. The mole, Castiel – Dean's head snaps up and a groan escapes his dry lips, as he takes in his surroundings. The room is dark around him, only dimly lit by a window about 50 feet in the distance. Warehouse is his first guess but everything seems to tidy, to neat. His hands are tied to his back of a the chair and Dean tries getting them free for just as long as it takes for him to realize it's barbed wire they tied him up with. A thin trail of warm blood runs down his wrists and Dean groans in agony. The pain settles and Dean forces his eyes open again to look down; his feet are tied up with the same bloody material like his hands but that's about it.

“Good afternoon, Dean.”

That same searing, sing-songy voice and its dull echo fills the spacious room and Dean fills chills run up and down his spine. The man had appeared in his field of vision without warning, without a single sound and despite himself Dean feels terrified of that very fact alone. As he comes closer and Dean finally gets a good look on him, all blood drains from his face and his hands clench to fists.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” Alastair says, coming closer and stopping about 10 feet from him, looking down at his hands absentmindedly “I heard so much about you.”

“My reputation precedes me.”

Alastair smiles at that but doesn't move again for another minute.

“Dean Winchester, age 24, no middle name, no criminal record, born in Lawrence, Kansas on January 24, 1989, graduated from Kansas Law Enforcement Training Center on May 11, 2010 at the top of your class, transferred to LAPD on June 6, 2012, where you were assigned poor Detective Castiel Novak.”

Alastair stops, taking in the too obvious effect his words had on his captive. Dean wants to look away, wants him to stop talking, but he can't tear his eyes off the other man, as he eventually walks further towards him. When he disappears out of Dean's view, he breaks into cold sweat, trying to turn his head enough to see the bastard. The next thing he feels is ice-cold hands around his neck, pressing down hard but not hard enough, leaving him writhing and gasping for air. It ends as abruptly as it began and Dean sucks the air in geedily, coughing and swearing.

“Poor little Castiel,” the voice continues from somewhere close to his ear and Dean shudders “So ambitious, so promising. Who knew a little...downsizing would affect him like this?”

“Oh, just  _shut up!_ ”

Dean hisses and strains against the ties once again in blind fury, ignoring the pain and the blood and Alastair just stands there and watches him, smiling that bony smile and Dean feels hot tears filling his eyes but he won't cry, not in front of some sick piece of shit that, not in front of that son of a bitch who killed Balthazar and destroyed Castiel's life.

“You go right ahead and do your thing, man- why delay the fun part, huh?”

But Alastair just clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Oh Dean, impatience doesn't suit you. It's gonna be your turn soon. But first-” he pauses, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a phone, Dean's phone “-we're gonna invite a mutual friend of ours, shall we?”

He makes his way over to Dean again and before he can do anything, a gag is stuffed into his mouth and a foul taste makes Dean retch and gasp. When the stars in front of his eyes stop dancing, the phone is already on Alastair's ear.

“Detective,” he purrs into the speaker and smiles “It's been a while, I hope you're doing alright? I'm here with a friend of yours and I have to say...we're having a lot of fun already. But it would be so much more enjoyable if you would join us.”

There's a short silence and Dean can hear Castiel's muffled voice screaming into the phone.

“Tss, tss, no need to yell, Detective,” Alastair chides, that disgusting smile still on his lips “Tell you what. I reactivated the GPS on your partner's phone, so you do your tracking thingy and we'll see you in, mh, an hour?”

More yelling on Castiel's side follows and finally Alastair nods “Yes Detective, I'm sure you will. So see you in an hour then,  _alone_. Or, you know me, I might be too disappointed to keep that little rookie of yours alive.”

He hangs up then, stuffing the phone in his pocket and turning back to face Dean again.

“Now, where were we?”

The gag is pulled from his mouth but its taste lingers on Dean's tongue, as Alastair disappears once more. He returns with a chromed instrument table and the sight makes Dean falter. There's knives, too many of them to count, and saws, small pointy ones and huge rusty monsters, there's pliers and hammers, nails and rope, a burner and a branding iron and a taser gun on the far side of the table.

He knows Alastair is watching him but Dean can't hide the terror on his face as he looks back up again, meeting relentless grey eyes sparkling in excitement over what would inevitably come.

“This won't work,” Dean manages eventually “He won't come for me, you know? I'm his partner, sure, but that's it. He won't risk his mission- his...life for me.”

His lips tremble as he speaks, as his own words sink in and the certainty of their meaning becomes clear to him. Alastair is silent, returning Dean's fiery looks with a knowing smile, until he finally breaks eye contact and looks down at the table. His hand glide over numerous devices, then pick up the taser, weighing it in both hands for a while. The strike comes unexpected and Dean's body rears up as he feels the electricity jolt through his veins, making his muscles spasm, his insides burn. He thinks he screams but the pain is too blinding for him to be sure. It stops then and Dean slumps back down with a groan, eyes pressed shut, his head filled with pleas he knows will not be heard.

Other men show up on a snap of his tormentors fingers and haul him up, wrapping the rope around his wrists and tying it to a ledger above, suspending him in the air. He hears Alastair instructing them to be careful “We don't want his shoulders dislocating just yet, do we?” and when they let go of him and the pain kicks in, for the first time in his life Dean prays, silently, eyes and lips pressed shut as if to block out all that's about to come.

Time creeps slowly and Alastair seems eager to demonstrate every single device he's got in store. Dean does scream, he can't stop the tears either when Alastair puts the pliers to one of his fingernails but there's only one promise coming over his lips, again and again.

“...h-he won't come. This..w...on't work...”

Alastair keeps talking to him, his tone light, like they were having a cup of tea together and Dean wants to throw up when he tells him about all the things he had wanted to do to Balthazar after one of his stooges had shot him.

“But you know, I couldn't,” he says, cutting Dean's shirt open and sinking a knife with sharp jags into Dean's lower abdomen “The place was crawling with cops and, to my own disgrace, I  _had_  to make sure I got out.” Another cut to his hip “You know, Azazel does appreciate the work I do for him  _very_ much. It would be a pity for him to lose me.” He puts down the knife then and reaches for the burner. Dean screams until his throat is raw and Alastair holds the flame to his neck, singing the refrain of Sinatra's 'Cheek to Cheek' to himself cheerfully.

When he finally steps back and puts his tools down on the table to check his wristwatch, Dean can barely keep his eyes open.

“It's time,” Alastair says and Dean exhales, against his own beliefs begging god or whoever's listening that Cas is safe, that this would be over soon and Cas could accept that none of this is his fault and move on, get another partner, forget about all of this.

*

He’s almost to the station by the time his phone rings, and he picks it up thinking it’s going to be the Chief.

It’s not.

It’s Alastair, and Castiel’s pulse immediately jumps through the roof, his jaw clenching tight as he hisses the man’s name at him.

“Alastair.”

“ _Detective,”_  the voice practically purrs, and Castiel can actually  _hear_  the smile in the voice,  _“It's been a while, I hope you're doing alright? I'm here with a friend of yours and I have to say...we're having a lot of fun already. But it would be so much more enjoyable if you would join us.”_

“I swear to God if you touch a single fucking hair on his head!”

“ _Tss, tss, no need to yell, Detective…Tell you what. I reactivated the GPS on your partner's phone, so you do your tracking thingy and we'll see you in, mh, an hour?”_

Castiel’s knuckles turn white as he pulls over to the side of the road, flipping open the laptop that was attached to a dashboard anchored holder. He brings up the program that would let him track Dean’s phone, something he’d had installed in every car he ever used since the very first time he and Balthazar had gotten separated while out on patrol, nearly five years ago.

“Alastair…You have no idea what I’m capable of. I promise you…you hurt Dean, and I will end your life with zero remorse.”

“ _Yes Detective, I'm sure you will. So see you in an hour then, alone. Or, you know me, I might be too disappointed to keep that little rookie of yours alive.”_

“Don’t!-“ he’s cut off, as the line goes dead.

Castiel grits his teeth and then focuses all his attention on getting the tracking up and running. It only takes thirty seconds, but it’s thirty seconds too long for Castiel; he’s seen what Alastair can do to a person, how he can wreck them, inside out, and leave them begging to be set free from their pain.

“Dean,” he whispers, as the dot flares to life, blinking on the screen, showing where his partner is currently located- or at least, his partner’s phone.

As he throws on the siren he realizes that there’s no way he can go in this car- there are lojacks in every police cruiser and undercover car, and Alastair had said alone…Castiel isn’t going to risk his partner’s life on a technicality. He races through the streets, bottoming out over speed bumps and tearing around corners, until he gets to his brother’s house, Gabriel already out on the sidewalk, waiting for him with the keys to his corvette, thanks to Castiel’s frantic phone call.

“Castiel are you okay?” he asks as he tosses his brother the keys, eyebrows arched high with worry.

Castiel shakes his head as he slams the door to his car shut, tossing the keys to Gabriel for safe keeping, and also to move the car off the sidewalk, which is where Castiel had come to a screeching halt.

“No, no I’m really not Gabriel.”

“Stop-“

“No time,”

“STOP, CASTIEL.”

Castiel’s head whips up, and Gabriel sighs, before running to the trunk of the Detective’s car, popping it open with ease.

“I hate that you’re doing this, but I know I can’t stop you…what I can do is make sure you wear a vest,” he grumbles, reaching in and then pulling out a standard issue vest, which he tosses to Castiel. Castiel sighs, and then hurries to strip, there in the middle of the street. It takes them five minutes to get him situated properly, and exchange the weaponry and laptop from one car to another, and then Castiel is back on the road, magnetic light popped ontop of the roof of the car, and siren going from the small handheld player he’d rigged to a megaphone.

“Come on come on….MOVE DAMMIT!” he screams, waving his hand frantically at people to get the fuck out of the way.

He realizes that a bright yellow corvette is more obnoxious and flashy than professional and police related, but at this point he doesn't care. He just needs to get to Dean, the sooner the better.

Castiel glances at the clock, and realizes that he’s 20 minutes down, and he still has a 25 minute drive ahead of him- if traffic is good. He snarls, and blares his horn, holding down on it until the stupid moron driving the giant boat of an Escalade in front of him figures out their shit, and moves their ass over to the side.

If Castiel flips them off as he drives by, he thinks that the Chief would understand.

It takes him 53 minutes from the time of the phone call, until he gets to where the dot is on the laptop screen, and he’s surprised to realize that where he thought they’d be meeting at a warehouse, the building is actually a five story office building, complete with bike rakes and potted trees out front. He narrows his eyes as he looks at it from across the street, but then packs up, taking the extra magazines from the back seat and stuffing them in his pants pocket, both 9mms in their place on his holster, the rifle slung over his back, tazer tucked into its holder on his belt, and last but not least, a throw back to his beat cop days, a baton that he’d had in the trunk, flipped open and held at the ready.

He stands in the alley way for another moment, taking a deep, calming breath, and then steps out into the daylight.

He has a partner to rescue.


	7. GetToDeanGetToDeanGetToDean

It's been five minutes since Alastair'd stopped. Five minutes of silence pounding in his ears, five minutes of nothing, of trying to blend out the stabbing pain that still flashes through his whole body. His arms are so incredibly heavy and shifting his weight is the most ineffective thing since both of his shoulders seem to be dislocated. Blood's dripping from a cut in his lip and Dean blinks again the ray of bright sunshine falling through the skylight. It's as if it's mocking him, coaxing him to get a grip and pull himself together. The sun's still shining, the world's still turning – they don't need you, nobody needs you. Things would settle, the people he loved would get over him and life would go on. Dean can't suppress a sob as the image of his brother and sister's faces appears before his inner eye. Sammy...Jo... He bites his lip, desperate not to show more weakness than he'd already have. He doesn't look at Alastair either, can't even bear the thought of his face, the streaks of Dean's blood on his cheeks like trophies.

'He won't come,' he thinks and manages a weak smile 'He's gonna be okay...'

And then Castiel's image is there, too and it's strange and sad how the very thought of him is enough to make Dean whimper, makes him want to rip his arms free, no matter the cost, and tackle Alastair, do whatever damage he can to the man that robbed Cas of everything.

*

Castiel walks into the office building and stops at the front desk, clearing his throat to get the attention of the front desk clerk. The man looks up, his eyes widening when he realizes who Castiel is as he holds up his badge.

“Detective Novak….I have reason to believe-“

Castiel cuts off at the look of terror on the man’s face, the way the man’s eyes dart down to below the desk. He nods, and carefully pulls out his gun, but the abrupt silence that he left must have tipped off the gunman who was hiding beneath the desk; the next thing Castiel knows there’s a thug holding the desk clerk captive, gun pressed to the man’s temple as the guy screams at him “I’ll do it I swear the fucking god, I’ll do it!”

Castiel had his gun up, cocked and aimed the second that the thug moved, hands steady as he glares down the barrel at the weasely little thing holding onto the innocent office worker.

“Just let him go, and maybe I can get you a deal.”

“No way man! No way! I-..Alastair’ll kill me man!”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t let that man go,” Castiel replies coldly, eyes narrowing slightly. The desk clerk has peed his pants by now, and is quietly sobbing as the thug shakes him, turns his head to snarl in the man’s ear for him to ‘shut the fuck up!’.

Castiel shoots.

The bang is loud, and he knows that anyone on the first floor will have heard it, possibly upstairs at well, as he didn’t have time to get a silencer from the precinct. He’s not a sniper, and this isn’t a raid, so Castiel knows he’s genuinely out-gunned and out-manned in this situation. He’s only got one thing on his side at the moment, and as the thug drops the ground, blood pouring from the hole in his head, he knows he’s tapped into it.

Rage.

Castiel pulls the baton out of his coat pocket and flips it open, ducking down and then surprising the first henchman to come around the corner. A quick slam of the metal rod to the man’s head has him crumpling to the ground, his semi-automatic caught in Castiel’s other hand. The office worker shrieks at him, and he turns just in time to pull his gun again, roll out of the way of the blast from another thug’s gun, the spray of bullets missing him by inches. It takes one clean shot to get the man between the eyes, and he too goes down.

“Was that all there was on this floor?” Castiel asks the desk clerk quietly as he takes the clips from the discarded guns and quickly unloads them, the bullets going in the trash, the magazines themselves in another drawer for safe keeping. He couldn’t carry all those guns with him and still manage to move, but there's no way he's leaving them easily useable either- just in case.

“W-what?” The man stutters, shaking as he crouches, wiping the vomit from his mouth and looking away from yet another body. His face is streaked with tears, and Castiel is losing his patience.

“The gunmen! How many were there on this floor!?” he snaps, and the man jumps, before sobbing out the answer.

“Th-three! Just..just these three!”

“And how many are upstairs.”

“I don’t…I don’t k-know…”

“Take a wild guess,” he sighs, checking his gun and then turning his head to glare at the man.

“Ten, fifteen? I don’t know, they knocked me out when they first got here.”

“How long have they been here?”

“Two hours, maybe three.”

“…Thank you. Do  _not_  call the cops…just find a safe place to hide for now. I have backup on the way,” he lies, and then gets up off the floor and walks to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.

If it was him, he’d want the best vantage point possible, so Castiel goes to the top floor, racing up the stairs, heart pounding in his ears, but his breathing is even, thanks largely in part to morning 5 mile runs. He enters the top floor silently, immediately ducking down after slipping in, the door shutting without a sound. He hears voices, and stills himself, calming his heart rate with slow even breathing so he can make them out from around the corner.

“I dunno man, Alastair was just sayin-“ one voice starts, sounding hesitant.

“ _FUCK_  Alastair, man!” another hisses, and they shush each other, before he continues, “Alastair is just some sick freak Azazel keeps around to do the dirty work…you think Alastair’s got any power? Nah..no way…he’s just the executioner.”

Castiel peers slowly around the corner, catching sight of two guards posted at the elevators about 20 yards away, and another set in front of double doors that no doubt led into a conference room of some sort. Castiel shuts his eyes, and then pulls out his baton after putting his gun away. This was going to call for finesse. He slips back into the stairwell, and then lets the door shut noisily this time, knowing that the sound would attract attention. Hopefully, he prays as he gets into position, they would come one at a time. If not...he’d have to get creative.

*

For a moment Dean can't quite place the odd noises coming from somewhere downstairs, loud bangs, a lot of them, then silence again. He lifts his head with a groan and only when he looks at Alastair he realizes.

“He's here,” the man says and a wicked grin spreads over his lips as he's watching Dean's reaction.

Shock, wonder, disbelief and fear fighting for dominance on his feature and he opens his mouth to say something but Alastair is there with the gag, stuffing it back into his mouth and Dean can't breathe. His eyes roll back into his head and he chokes on the dirty rag, trying to get some air.

The next thing he feels is the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his temple.

“Oh this is so exciting, don't you think? Let's find out if he makes it up here, shall we?”

*

The door shutting gets the attention of the guards, exactly as Castiel planned. What he didn’t plan on though, was all but one of them coming to the stairwell to check. So much for hedging his bets on the stupidity of the hired help.

The first thug that enters the stairwell Castiel takes down with a sickening crack, his baton connecting with the man’s head and sending him to a crumpled heap on the ground a second later, the moan that escapes his lips pained, or possibly just a forced exhalation of breath as the body hit the floor. Castiel doesn’t have time to stop and examine it, as there’s two more men on him instantly, shouting for the fourth and final guard to get Alastair.

It happens so quickly then, guns are pulled, and Castiel narrowly avoids getting shot, the bullet grazing his shoulder, the sound exploding and echoing in the stairwell, ringing in his ears. He manages to turn the gun around on one of the henchmen, using him as a shield and a weapon both, protecting him from the other’s shots while pressing on the trigger finger just enough to fire off one shot. The third man goes down, falling back into the hallway, and he drops the second, the man coughing once before he too hits the ground, the wet sound of the cough letting Castiel know that the man was most likely done for. Bullets to the lungs isn’t exactly an easy thing to recover from.

He ducks to the side and down just as the last man comes barreling into the stairwell, gun drawn, stepping over the previous men that Castiel had downed. It’s a simple move, and Castiel knows that it’s nowhere near regulation, but at this point he can’t even seem to think straight past the chant of ‘get to Dean’ that’s been running through his head from the second he heard the voicemail only just over an hour earlier this morning.

With a quick push of his legs and a gripping hold, Castiel upends the last man over the railing, not bothering to listen to his screams as he falls, or the thunking of his body as it slams into railing after railing on the way down.

He turns away from it all, pulls his gun out and cocks it, and walks down the now quiet hallway to the conference room. The doors open inward easily, swinging silently on well-oiled hinges, and Castiel strides inside with confidence, face a pinched expression swaying between righteous fury and the furrowed brow of someone who's ready to do or say anything to get what they need.

He stops a few meters from Dean and Alastair, eyes flaring wide for a split second, before they narrow again. The stench of burnt flesh, choking and thick, along with the bright coppery tang of metallic blood, freshly spilt, hangs in the air. From the look of Dean, Alastair had been busy, to say the least.

“…What do you want, Alastair?” Castiel asks calmly, hands surprisingly loose around the weapons at his sides.

*

There's more gunfire, loud screams and the sound of bodies hitting the ground and then the doors swing open soundlessly and Castiel walks in with the kind of self-evidence and confidence that Dean found downright irresistible. His head jerks up, eyes opening in wonder as he takes in the man that's making his way over to him, the man that ignored all dangers and rules to come here, to get him. Or well, maybe this isn't about him, Dean thinks and with a pang the memories come flooding back; Balthazar, of course. This is about him, he realizes, this has always been about revenge...

"You don't look too good," Alastair says, holding the hand that's not pressing the gun against the side of Dean's head up to examine his nails. There's crusted blood underneath them and Dean feels bile rising up again. „I have to say we were a little worried you wouldn't show up, weren't we, Dean?“

He nudges at his prisoner's side with his shoulder and Dean gasps and winces at the sudden pain rippling through his body.

"I hope my employees didn't cause you too much trouble?"

When the pain subsedes and Dean manages to pry his eyes open again, the steady severe look on Castiel's face is still there. He wouldn't take Alastair's bullshit, he wouldn't yield, he wouldn't surrender. Despite what Dean had thought, despite what everyone at the precinct thought – Castiel is strong, stronger and braver and better than most people. Stronger than Dean. Alastair sighs and shrugs his shoulders, stepping behind the limp body held only by thick rope.

"Let's see,“ he says and Dean feels his breath between his shoulders "This is pretty simple, isn't it, Detective? It is undeniable that I have something that belongs to you. Now the way I see it it doesn't really matter if you like young Mr Winchester here or not. So, you see, this is where it gets unpredictable, this is where it gets  _interesting_..."

He can hear the smile in Alastair's voice as the man reappears on his other side, gun returning back to his temple instantly.

"Will you...surrender? No, you couldn't possibly be sure of what I'm going to do, now could you? So what else...shoot me? You might as well shoot your partner, too, cause I'm taking him with me."

He stops, smile widening into a sickening grin and Dean's throat is dry with terror and fear.

"Or just...shoot him. Take me back to the precinct, make sure I pay for what I did to that beloved partner of yours. You could write it off as self-defense. Just think about it, Detective. Solving the case that defined your life for the past few months. You could start anew. Just... _think_ about it......"

*

Alastair’s voice grates on his nerves. The sickly sweet nature of it such a polar opposite to the man’s actions, it makes Castiel wonder if there's even a heart beating in Alastair’s chest, or if there's just a hole where one should be. His eyes track the other man’s movements, steady and calm, keeping his breathing in check as his mind whirls over the different ways to take Alastair down. He doesn’t dare make a move though, not with the muzzle of the gun pressed against Dean’s temple like that.

In the end, Castiel’s eyes drift slowly from Alastair to Dean, where they lock on to his partner’s own, trying to get Dean to look at him.

“Dean…are you okay?” He asks softly, completely ignoring everything that Alastair has just spouted at him. He knows it’s going to piss the drama queen sadist off, but in that moment Castiel doesn’t really care. He needs to know that Dean is okay; or at the very least going to be okay.

He could deal with killing Alastair in a moment. Once he was sure that his partner wasn’t dying on him this second.

*

He doesn't expect Cas to address him and for a moment he doesn't even realize the meaning of his words. He blinks at the other man then, mouth bone-dry around the gag. Not once in his life he'd felt this horrible, hurt and humiliated and weak and pathetic. It's surprising how easy it is, despite all that, to nod, to find Castiel's gaze and hold it. So many words are in his eyes, everything he can't and possible will never get the chance to say. Why? You're crazy. How could you? I'm sorry. Thank you.

*

Castiel’s jaw clenches when Dean’s eyes go soft and somehow sad, through the pain. His eyes flick to Alastair, and he stands up just a tiny bit straighter, head tilted up minutely.

“You have to know that I’m not taking you to the station Alastair,” Castiel says slowly, his voice deep and dark, eyes narrowing as he mentally calculates how quickly he could raise the gun in time to shoot Alastair before the other man could pull the trigger. Not likely. Not remotely likely.

He stares at Alastair for another moment, and then tilts his head to the side just slightly, lip quirking in a hideous imitation of a smile. It comes out more like a grimace than anything.

“What did you hope to get out of this…Alastair? You had to know I was coming for him, or you wouldn’t have taken him. Dean means nothing to you- he isn’t the one who’s been hunting you and Azazel for over two years. He’s not the one who’s come close to shutting your whole operation down a dozen times…and now that I know how you’re doing it, you and Azazel are finished,” Castiel says swiftly, his words lacking all emotion, just matter of fact, business. He doesn’t look at Dean again.

*

It all doesn't make any sense to him. Dean's eyes flutter shut again in exhaustion and Castiel's words fill his eardrums dully. He feels as if he's being pushed underwater, pressure in his ears, the numb feeling of surrender taking a hold of him.

"I was taking a chance," Alastair says somewhere next to him and Dean knows. This is nothing but a game to him. Azazel too must know that him and Cas had been on the right track, that he'd have to be careful or take action. Well, he decided to do the latter, obviously.

"No matter what you do, Detective – your little partner is not going to leave this place in one piece. And whether I'll be in custody or dead, you'll always have to live with that. Knowing that you couldn't save him, that  _I_  was the one who took him from you. Just like I took your boyfriend before him."

A clicking sound close to his ear startles Dean and his eyes widen as he realizes it's the safety catch being released. His lips tremble but he doesn't turn his head, doesn't dare tear his gaze from Castiel. Beautiful, tragic Castiel, having to witness such a similar scene once again. Dean hates himself for it, tears filling his eyes.

 _'I'm sorry Cas,'_  he wants to scream  _'I'm so sorry...'_

*

Castiel is beyond done at this point. He’s practically vibrating with anger, the only visible sign being his nostrils flaring now and then with rough breaths, and his hands, which are clenched now around the weapons they hold. He doesn’t reply to Alastair once again, simply pressing his lips together and nodding, as if he’s giving in to the psychotic man’s plan.

As if he’s going to let Alastair hurt Dean.

Castiel moves quickly, hoping with every fibre of his being that this trick will work. He tosses the baton straight up into the air, the high, vaulted ceiling of the meeting room crisscrossed with metal beams letting the metal rod fly up 15 feet easily. The second it happens, Alastair’s eyes snap up to follow it automatically.

By the time they come back down, Castiel has his gun up, and he’s firing.


	8. Not Again

The bullet rips through the flesh on Dean’s shoulder, searing the skin as it travels past and into Alastair. The man’s throat is torn apart by it, and he fires a split second too late, Dean jerking away in pain. Alastair’s bullet goes wide, embedding itself in the wall of the room, instead of Dean’s skull. Castiel dashes over, quickly firing another two rounds in the fallen sadist’s head, even though they weren’t strictly necessary; he wasn’t taking any chances.

Castiel drops his gun then, the spatter of blood on Dean’s face and the mess Alastair had made of him making Castiel’s chest tighten in sympathy.

“Fuck,” he whispers, ripping a knife out of his back pocket, flicking it open to saw at the ropes that were currently holding Dean’s arms up and out of their sockets. The rope frays and gives way, and Castiel catches Dean, both of them tumbling to the floor as he does his best not to cause Dean anymore harm.

“Dean,…Dean come on look at me,” Castiel hisses, gently cupping his partner’s face and tapping the bruised and bloodied skin there.

“Please Dean…Not again, not again, this can’t- you can’t _do this to me_!” He shrieks, letting the terror he’d felt since the moment he realized Alastair had Dean take over for once. Castiel’s breath comes in ragged shallow pants, and he has more and more trouble sucking it in every time.

“Please…Dean…you can’t…I can’t do this,” he whimpers, petting the side of Dean’s face as tears well in his eyes, the blood smearing on Dean’s freckled cheek.

 

~~~

The pain is searing, it's as if his body's ripped apart and his insides incinerated and the moment his body hits the ground Dean blacks out. He comes to again what can only be mere minutes later, Castiel's face above him, wet with tears and so full of remorse it makes Dean's chest tighten. He can feel his limbs again, his left arm hanging useless and aching at his side, so he slowly, gently raises his right hand to Castiel's cheek, the older man flinching at the sudden touch. Dean chokes then, the rag being still in his mouth and Cas reacts quickly, pulling it out. The first inhale is followed by a series of coughing and retching and finally, finally fresh air is flooding his lungs and Dean's eyes fall shut for just a moment of blissful relaxation. When he opens them, Cas is still staring at him in horror and a smile spreads on the young man's face, too bright, too full of joy for what had happened in the past hour.

“You came...,” he manages to say and his throat is still so very dry but he needs to say this, needs to tell Cas that he did good, that he succeeded – that he saved him.

~~~

“Of course I came,” Castiel snaps, the anger in his voice obviously misplaced. He knows from the sirens that started moments earlier, the ones that are getting closer each minute, that the Chief must have figured out a way to track him. ‘probably my phone’, Castiel thinks, knowing that the man in charge wasn’t stupid by any means.

He shifts slightly, then stops and holds utterly still when Dean hisses in pain.

“Dean?” Castiel speaks softly, his hands fluttering, useless, back and forth from Dean’s face, to his arm, where the bullet wound was bleeding freely.

“I’ve gotta- Dean, I need to put pressure on this, okay?” Castiel rips off his own tie, bundling the silk fabric up until it’s more or less formed a pad, and then he presses it to the wound, wincing in sympathy when Dean jolts and lets out a cry of pain.

“I’m so sorry Dean…I should have been here…I shouldn’t …I’m so sorry,” Castiel whispers around the tears, trying to ignore the quiver in his voice, how damned weak he sounds as he breaks down in front of his partner. Dean needed him now, and Castiel wasn’t going anywhere, even if he felt like he was failing apart, like he needed to throw up and then sob until he had nothing left.

The sirens get closer and closer, and within a few minutes, they’re right outside. Castiel knows then that they’re going to be okay, but he still doesn’t let go of Dean. The EMTs have to pry him away. It takes four grown SWAT members to hold him back when Dean cries out as they move him on to a stretcher. No one can keep him out of the ambulance though. No one dares to try.

~~~

What comes next is blurry and vague and Dean is grateful for that. He just knows that when there's voices coming closer and hands lifting him up and away, Castiel is there, his words firm and unyielding and Dean is so, so relieved. Everything goes black then and Dean stops thinking, stops worrying, the touch of Castiel's hand to his own warm and reassuring.

He comes to in the middle of the night, faint traffic noises and soft street lights filtered by ugly yellow curtains. The hospital bed is relatively comfortable but in his condition he wonders if it would've made any difference if they'd just laid him down on a bed of nails. He lifts his head to survey the room but quickly lets it drop back to the pillow, groaning with exertion. And then he sees him. Castiel is there, of course, slumped down in an armchair, his hand holding Dean's gently.

It's then when Dean finally lets go, giving in to the pressure, the pain, the guilt he feels and the torment he went through and he cries, silent tears running down his cheeks and he grabs Castiel's hand tightly.

He falls asleep again sometime in the early morning hours, Castiel still breathing softly by his side.

~~~

Castiel is a wreck, having bled out about half a pint of blood himself, he’d been running on adrenaline and the rest of the chemical cocktail that his brain had released when he’d been shot. The second that the EMTs tell him that Dean is most likely going to be okay, and that he doesn’t appear to be bleeding internally, Castiel collapses against the side of the ambulance sobbing and letting everything he’d reined in tight out. The men working on Dean thankfully let him have his moment, and by the time they get to the hospital, he’s quiet once more.

He follows them as far as they’ll let him down the hallway, and then gets moved into a room on his own, where he’s forced to strip down to his boxers so they can examine him and make sure that he has no injuries other than the one on the shoulder. Castiel can’t remember if he’d been hit anywhere else, but thankfully other than a handful of bruises that were going to be quite painful in the morning; he’s only got the shoulder wound. Once that’s cleaned out and stitched up, they move him into a room to rest, and wait until they’re done with Dean.

It takes the doctors two hours to fix Dean up; the burns and lacerations to his skin are extensive, covering a large portion of his body. He would have scars, but thanks to the delicate handiwork of the Doctor who stitched him up, they would probably be very faint and light. Castiel lets out a sigh of relief as the man in the green scrubs tells him this, trying his hardest to ignore the blood smeared on the man’s shirt. The doctor lets Castiel move to Dean’s room, and although they made sure that the room had two beds so Castiel could rest while Dean slept, he can’t bring himself to.

He stays awake as long as he can, leaning against the bed and looking Dean over, memorizing the different cuts and burns that Alastair had inflicted. Eventually Castiel winds up slumped in the chair he’d dragged over to the bed, one hand holding Dean’s, the other propping his head up. He only lets himself sleep once he’s sure that they’re guarded; the two men posted at the door are friends, Ash and Garth. Even though they’re both incredibly goofy on a day to day basis, Castiel knows that he can trust them to be serious about this.

So he sleeps, and by some grace of the gods, it’s absolutely, blissfully, dreamless.

~~~

When he wakes up again it's from the sound of a door and a sudden, bright light. The nurse leaning over his bed, checking the tubes that connected him to several machines and when she notices he's awake, she smiles at him, and explains a few things. They'd fixed him up as far as they could but he would have to keep his shoulders still for the next 7 – 8 weeks and change the bandages around his neck, arms and torso every second day, whether he got somebody to help him with that at home or came back to the hospital. She doesn't say it but Dean knows that he wouldn't be able to skip therapy and he frowns in disdain. The way he sees it there's no fucking way some stranger'll make him sit down on a couch and spill his feelings. All he wants for now is peace and quiet.

 

He sighs as the nurse finally leaves the room, flicking off the light and flooding the room with darkness and shadows. Castiel is still by his side and Dean feels his own hand going numb from lying in that same position for almost a day now. He carefully pulls it back, trying his best not to wake the other man but the moment he moves, Castiel stirs awake, dazed look on his face as he tries to make out what's happening.

That's when Dean sees the bandage and a pang of guilt makes his body stiff. Back then he had been too tired, too busy with his own misfortune and blinded by pain to notice Castiel's wounds and he hates it. Being responsible, being the reason for any harm that had been inflicted on his partner, is almost unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, giving the other man a small smile as his eyes focus on his younger partner “You okay, partner?”

~~~

Castiel wakes up to Dean’s voice, and even though it’s dry and croaky, just the sound of it makes his chest tighten. He sits up quickly and leans closer to Dean, eyes watering slightly as he nods and swallows, his own throat dry as well.

“Y…yes, Dean…I’m fine….are you feeling okay? Do you need more pain medication?” He stands up abruptly, looking around the room as if to get his bearings. “Are you hungry?”

He steps over toward the sink in the corner of the room, getting a glass of water which he brings back to Dean and then thinks better of it when he goes to hand the cup to him. Instead Castiel carefully places the cup at Dean’s lips, and tilts it back, pulling it away once Dean signals he’s done with his eyes.

~~~

He takes a few, careful gulps and the liquid running down his throat is like honey, the feeling of having swallowed sandpaper slowly but surely vanishing. He nods then, trying his best to look nonchalant.

“I'm still a little dizzy,” he says and closes his eyes for a moment, when everything around him gets hazy “I'm fine, Cas, don't worry.”

And the truth is – in that very moment he is. He doesn't feel more pain than a distant pounding in his head and a stinging at his neck and he's thankful for that. But no matter how bad it'd get, no matter how horrible he would feel the next day or even in an hour; Dean wouldn't burden Cas with it. Not any more than he already had...

~~~

“You lost a lot of blood, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, setting the glass down on the table just beside the bed. He hovers there for a second, before sitting back down in the chair, scooting it a little closer to Dean’s beside.

“…Don’t act tough…you have a lot of injuries. You will tell me if you start feeling pain again.” It’s not so much a request as it is a demand. Castiel _was_ going to take care of Dean, and there was nothing that Dean could say or do to stop him.

“I’m going to go call the Chief. I’m pretty sure he’s going to want you on bed rest for the minimal the Doctor asks for, and I’m taking the same time off,” he says as he stands back up, fidgeting, his thumb picking at the edge of one of his nails for a moment as he tries to figure out how to phrase what he wants to say. Why was this so goddamn difficult? Why did Dean make _everything_ so much more confusing, so hard to deal with?

“…I shouldn’t have left you alone…,” he whispers, his brow furrowed in regret.

~~~

For a moment Dean forgets all about being careful and taking it slow, sitting up in the bed a little too abruptly.

“Don't,” he says and his head swims both with dizziness and determination “-this...none of this is your fault, Cas!”

He reaches out a hand, taking a hold of Castiel's arm, his eyes clear and serious.

“I'll be fine, I promise…Sam will take care of me, it's gonna be alright.”

He holds Castiel's gaze, even as the lies spill out of his mouth. He won't tell them, neither his parents, nor Sam or Jo. He loved them too much to expect anything of them. His dad was busy enough with the scrapyard, his mom spending more nights at the Roadhouse pub than at home. And his brother and sister were too happy, too blissfully unaware of anything bad; he could never burden them with this. But neither would he do it to Cas. He doesn't deserve this, nobody does...

~~~

Castiel’s face goes hard when Dean sits up, and he moves until he’s back by Dean’s side, carefully pushing Dean back down until Dean gives up, and lies back on the mattress.

“If you want to sit up, I can move the bed. Otherwise, you’re lying still. Understand?”

Castiel’s tone is his ‘don’t fuck with me’ one, and he’d used it on Dean more than a few times in the time they’d been working together. He sighs and brings a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose before snorting softly.

“…Fine. Sam can take care of you. But I’m taking you home from here…and I’m going to talk to Sam and make sure he understand all of the instructions the Doctor gave me for you.”

He gestures at the bed, the controls at Dean’s fingertips.

“Use the controls if you want to sit up. Stop being an idiot….I’m going to go call the Chief, and get us some food,” he grumbles as he stalks off, obviously irritated with Dean’s reluctance to let Castiel take care of him.

~~~

Dean doesn't get the chance to say anything before Cas leaves the room in a hurry so he stays behind, mouth suddenly becoming very dry again. He doesn't move until Cas returns about twenty minutes later with a tray of lukewarm hospital food for the both of them. Dean swallows down some of it, if only to please his partner, who's watching him closely. Eventually he puts the fork down, taking a deep breath, his eyes cast down at his hands. This isn't something he wants to see Castiel's reaction to, if it's not absolutely necessary...

“I don't want you to talk to Sam,” he says and licks his lips as he's trying to figure out how to go on “You did enough, Cas, ok? You did your job, you got me out, I'm fine. And I'll be fine from now on, I mean, from what the nurse told me there's at least a dozen doctors who'll be taking care of my injuries.”

He forces a smile and only then dares to look up into Castiel's eyes with a look he hopes conveys how grateful he is to him. But there's so much worry, so much righteous fury in his partner's eyes and Dean can't stop, can't shut up or keep lying.

“You did enough, Cas...,” he repeats and his voice is strained with guilt “I won't let you waste your time on taking care of me anymore.”

~~~

Castiel slams down the fork in his hand onto the plate that’s balanced on his lap, his mouth pinched and eyes furious at Dean’s words. He takes a breath to calm himself, but it doesn’t work at all.

“You don’t want me to talk to Sam? Too bad. It’s happening. And you can stop being such a stubborn jackass about it and _let me_ ,” Castiel snaps, picking up the plate and practically tossing it onto the table beside Dean’s own so he can stand up.

“You are impossible. I swear,-  you just- UGH,” he says, scrubbing his hand through his hair in frustration. Castiel paces from Dean’s bedside to the door, and then thinks better of it and comes right back, as close as possible to Dean, and bends down so he’s in Dean’s personal space, their faces maybe a foot apart.

“Do you really not get that I _need_  to do this, Dean? That I have to?...I can’t-…when I got that voicemail, and I heard his voice,” Castiel’s voice cracks and he reaches out, one hand fisted in the thin dotted fabric of the hospital gown Dean was wearing, right over his heart. “I thought that you were dead,” he whispers, head falling forward and hand clenching tighter. His voice wavers when he speaks again, and it’s so quiet that Dean can barely make out the words. “I thought you were dead…and it was my fault. I’d gotten you killed. Just like I did with him.”

~~~

“Cas...”

His face falls at Castiel's words, the message so clear and only confirming what Dean had known to be true already. Cas' hand is twisted in his gown and Dean can't tear his gaze from the other man's. Then his own hand comes up to cover the one on his chest and he feels Cas jerk back only slightly, his brow furrowed in anger.

“Why, Cas...I never knew I meant so much to you.”

His voice is playful now, a knowing smile on his lips and he can see a chaos of emotion on Castiel's face; bewilderment, confusion, disbelief and then annoyance.

“On second thought it might be best you took some time off like you said – my bed's big enough for the both of us.”

He winks then, patting Castiel's hand on his chest lightly.

~~~

Castiel’s cheeks flush bright red and his mouth gapes open at the sudden 180 in Dean’s behavior. He snaps his mouth shut, jaw clenching, and rips his hand away as Dean pats it.

“You are the most frustrating man I’ve ever met,” Castiel bites out, and then turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, ignoring the sounds of surprise from Garth and Ash. He comes back later with the Chief, who decided to visit them both. The news of Alastair’s death and the shootings is all over the TV, but thankfully the Chief managed to figure out a story that covered Castiel’s rampage; while on the one hand Castiel should have been fired, or suspended at the very least for such a reckless action, the Chief knew full well that he wouldn’t be able to fire Castiel without the truth coming out. And if anyone ever found out that Castiel went all Rambo on his own, then there was going to be hell to pay, in the form of the Chief losing his job for not being able to keep a handle on a loose cannon like Castiel.

“Alastair’s gone, and Novak, you took out six guns-for-hire…they weren’t high up on the chain, but each one had some kind of a record. No one is really going to be missing these guys. So far, no word from Azazel. There’s been no movement. It’s as if he’s gone underground, thanks to your little stunt,” he growls at Castiel, who has the decency to look at least slightly chastised.

“So I hear its bed rest and physical therapy for you, Winchester. 2 months, with pay. Enjoy it, I want to see you back at the office when it’s over, ready to finish this. Novak? Your leave is approved as well.”

~~~

Dean keeps up the façade, the cheery face that seemed to fool the Chief and even Castiel. He only relaxes when they leave, both of them, Castiel still bitter and frustrated about Dean's behavior.


	9. Meet the Family

The next few days are hard, the medication soon becoming ineffective against the hurt, both physically and psychologically. A small grey woman appears on his second day, sitting down in that same armchair where Cas had fallen asleep holding his hand, asking questions Dean doesn't want to answer. She leaves with a frown on her face, jotting down notes in a little book and the minute the door closes, Dean pulls the blanket over his defiled body and shuts his eyes against the angry tears that well up.

Despite what he told Cas and the doctors, his family shows up on the third day, Jo clutching at Sammy's side and when Dean meets Ellen's eyes she can't stop the tears running down her face. They stay until the nurse tells them visiting hours are over and Bobby has to pull his wife off of her son. Cas doesn't visit him and Dean tries to ignore how his insides twist at the thought of him.

On the morning of Dean's discharge, Sam's there with a bunch of clothes. And as his brother helps him stripping off the stiff hospital gown and slipping in a button-down shirt and jeans, Dean feels more rejuvenated than he'd ever thought possible. They leave the room without looking back, Sam walking close to his brother, making sure he didn't stumble or fall, which, in Dean's opinion, was ridiculous. Despite everything his legs are still okay and apart from some dizziness when he got up too quickly, he could walk perfectly fine.

They make their way through the lobby and that's when Dean spots Castiel, standing by the entrance, watching the brothers approach. Sam looks down at his brother and back at the other man, extending a hand for Castiel to shake.

“Detective Novak,” he says and there's so much wonder in his voice that Dean wants to reach out and punch his little embarrassing pain-in-the-ass brother “Y-you saved him, right? Thank you, so much, really-“

~~~

The last few days had been incredibly stressful for Castiel. He’d had to meet up with a new therapist; after everything went down, Meg Masters went missing, along with all of Dean and Castiel’s files. His office was practically wiped clean. There wasn’t a shred of the evidence they’d put together left, except what Ash had digitally converted. Castiel almost kissed him when he found out that Ash had been scanning everything behind his back; they’d ended up only losing about a month’s worth of work.

He avoids Dean, even though he wants to go and see his partner with all his heart. There’s still an ache in his chest when he flashes back to seeing Dean strung up like that, as if he was a ragdoll for Alastair to play with, rather than a living, breathing, feeling person. Castiel had thrown up, more than once, at the memory.

The day comes for Dean’s release, and Castiel is waiting at the entrance to the hospital, arms hanging loose at his sides. He straightens up slightly when he finally sees Dean, and frowns when he realizes that the other isn’t in a wheelchair. He steps forward, opening his mouth to ask why they’d allowed Dean to leave without the customary ‘hospital wheel out’, but then the _giant_ floppy haired kid next to Dean starts speaking, and Castiel realizes he hadn’t even noticed the boy. There’s something about saving his brother- and that’s when it clicks. The giant floppy haired kid is _Sam_ , Dean’s kid brother.

“Sam, right?” Castiel says, shaking the boy’s hand momentarily, and then letting go. He turns to Dean and arches a brow, as if to say ‘really?’, because the kid had a good four, five inches on Dean.

“I trust the Doctors explained everything you need to know about taking care of Dean, while he’s recovering, Sam?” Castiel asks, but he’s staring at Dean, challenging him with a firm expression.

He wasn’t going to let this go. Not until he was sure that Sam was capable of taking care of his brother, and that Dean was going to swallow his stupid, stubborn pride, and let him.

~~~

As Sam talks to Castiel, reassures him and promises to take care of everything, Dean's not really listening, simply returning the steady gaze his partner directs at him. There's determination in his eyes and persistence and the same is reflected back at him out of Castiel's blue orbs. They leave the hospital together, Sam to his right and Castiel to his left, walking slowly and each careful step pisses Dean off beyond compare. They make it to Sam's car and Dean slips inside, door still open, and smiles up at Castiel.

“Come on Cas, get in – my sasquatch brother's cooking dinner.”

Cas only hesitates a moment before he opens the back door and gets in the car. Dean assumes it's because he doesn't know Sam and therefore can't trust he's telling the truth. Dean doesn't really mind though. Seeing Cas waiting for him made him happier than he cared to admit and he's not ready to say 'goodbye' already. Plus, if Sam hadn't changed in the past few weeks, he still made way too much food and not that Dean had a problem with that, it's just that salad and vegetables aren't necessarily his favorite...

The drive to his apartment is quiet except for Sam's never ending chorus of praise for Cas saving his brother's life and the occasional swearing from Dean over 'god damn morons who had no idea how to drive'. Dean reaches for the door handle but winces at the pain even a small movement like this hurt. Before Sam can reach him, Cas is there, opening the door for him and helping him to get up and out of the car. When he finally slumps down on the couch in his living-room, he feels as if he'd just run a marathon. It's ridiculous, really.

And then Sam disappears into the kitchen, humming to himself as he chops tomatoes and potatoes and a lot of green stuff Dean doesn't know the name of. He groans and rolls his eyes, meeting Cas' quizzical gaze.

“His big brother merely escapes death and he thinks rabbit food's gonna help me get back in shape,” he huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

It's weird...Sam's just in the other room, Dean can hear him preparing pots and pans, but he's alone with Castiel for now and it feels strange. There's a tension between them, has been there ever since they made out in that alleyway and Dean feels so small and vulnerable all of the sudden. It's as if the encounter with Alastair made him forget about every argument the two of them had had ever since and all the longing Dean had suppressed comes rushing right back. It doesn't help that Cas smiles at Dean's words and sits down next to him, his knee touching Dean's ever so lightly.

~~~

The drive to Dean’s apartment is…awkward, and that’s Castiel being kind about it. For some reason the over-sized younger brother was fascinated with him, and basically spent the entire time gushing to Castiel about how amazing he was for saving Dean’s life, and how awesome it was that he’d taken out the bad guys and- and- and-…Castiel tuned out after about five minutes, nodding along politely, while he stared at the side of Dean’s face. His mind ended up obsessing over how long Dean’s eyelashes were instead, and by the time they got to the house, Castiel realized that he’d made himself hard…by staring at Dean’s fucking _eyelashes_. He had a problem.

Getting Dean inside isn’t hard, thankfully, and once the green eyed man was sitting down, Sam thankfully left them alone in the living room, to go start dinner in the kitchen. A part of Castiel knew he should offer to help; it was only polite as an unexpected dinner guest to at least  _offer_ to help. Instead he sat down next to Dean and stared straight ahead, letting his knee fall over to bump against the other man’s. It was a form of solidarity, that’s all. Just Castiel showing his partner that no matter how utterly _nuts_ his brother was, Castiel had his back.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

He turns to Dean once he’s sure Sam isn’t going to be coming back out any second, and frowns slightly.

“Meg Masters has disappeared. She took all of our work with her…if Ash hadn’t been backing everything up secretly, we would have lost it all. As it stands, we lost almost everything we’ve done since you…since you became my partner.”

~~~

Dean nods quietly at Castiel’s words, the frustration obvious on both of their faces. When he finally turns to meet his partner’s eyes he doesn’t know what to say. This is important to Cas, possibly the most important thing in his life. And he’d failed him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says under his breath and ignores the irritated huff he gets in response “I let you down, Cas, I should’ve stayed at the precinct, called you from there. If I hadn’t left-“

Cas stops him then, hands coming up to grab his shoulder and his face – while distorted with anger – still showing the faintest signs of sympathy.

“You didn’t…let me down, Dean.”

He holds his gaze for a moment, before letting go of his shoulders, lowering his head with an exasperated sigh. They sit in silence for a moment and when Sam barges in with a stained apron – and where the hell did he get that from? – to let them know it’ll take another hour or so they both jump apart a few feet.

Dean turns on the TV after a while, zapping through the channels aimlessly and really only trying to get Cas distracted, so that he can look at him. Ever since he’d come to save him, Dean can’t stop himself from thinking. Sure, they were a team and Alastair had done his best to make Cas feel guilty and responsible for what happened to him. Still it doesn’t explain why he came, all alone, slaughtering men left and right and risking his own goddamn life just to get to his annoying rookie of a partner. What is this thing that’s standing between them, ever since that night, ever since their lips touched for the first time and Dean had felt like he was on top of the world.

‘It doesn’t matter if it meant something or not,’ Cas had said and that ‘it’s not going to happen again.’

Dean frowns, burying his face in his hands. His head hurts.

Just in time for dinner the doorbell rings and Dean is almost getting smothered by the amount of people pushing inside. Ellen and Bobby are followed by Jo and then Lisa and Ben step inside, a small and amicable smile on the woman’s face, as her 8-year old son surges forward to hug Dean a little too tightly to be pleasant.

They somehow all make it over to the dining-room where Cas had helped Sam set the table and is now standing a bit awkwardly in a corner.

“Guys, I want you to meet Castiel,” he says and Sam quickly adds “He’s the one, he saved Dean’s life.”

Dean can see how uncomfortable all the attention makes Castiel but it’s actually kind of adorable, the way each and every member of Dean’s family steps forward to thank him, shaking his hand and hugging him. Dean’s leaning in the door frame across the room, watching the scene with a small smile.

It’s a bit strange, introducing Lisa and Ben and he watches Castiel’s face closely as he tells him about them being High School sweethearts, running away at age 16 to get married when Dean had found out Lisa was pregnant. Before Ben’s second birthday though, it had been clear Dean would never be able to love her the way she deserved and they’d broken up. He still saw them at least once a week, taking Ben to baseball games and Lisa to dinner.

Then Sam starts serving, potato salad (salad, of course) followed by the spiciest, most delicious Jambalaya Dean remembers ever having the pleasure to taste. Cas seems stiff and alien in the beginning but the more wine Ellen pours him, the more relaxed he gets. Slowly but surely Cas starts warming up to Dean’s family and over chocolate ice cream he actually starts talking freely. By 10pm they’re all a little tipsy, if not drunk, and Cas is completely absorbed in a conversation with Bobby about something Dean can’t make out.

So when Jo, after watching her brother and his partner for most of the night, sits up straight and starts talking, it takes all of them a moment to realize what she’s saying.

“So, are you two together?”

Dean falters, dropping the spoon he’s been holding with a loud clang and Cas just looks utterly baffled.

“-what do you mean?” Dean asks carefully, knowing his little sister too well to try bullshitting her.

“Oh come on, Dean, you could see the crush you have on him from outer space!”

His eyes dart over to where Cas is staring at Jo as if she just declared World War III and feels his cheeks flush and his head swimming. It’s obvious Cas is too dumbstruck too speak so after another moment of expectant silence Dean simply shrugs his shoulders.

“You have to admit, he is pretty hot.”

~~~

Castiel flushes at Jo’s question, hoping and praying that Dean would deflect it- and then turning an even darker red when instead of doing as Castiel had been hoping for, his partner just makes it even worse. He sputters, opening his hands up to ward off the looks as each face turns to stare at him.

“We’re not- I’m, Dean and I…No. We’re not _together_ ,” he finally manages to get out, shaking his head and swallowing hard. Maybe this was a bad idea, him being here like this, surrounded by Dean’s family and friends. Things had gone so well until now. Castiel found that he even liked Lisa, despite the immediate stupid reaction of jealousy that the woman had once been Dean’s significant other; the jealousy faded when he saw how friendly they were, but that there was no discernible sexual tension. Not that Castiel had a right to be jealous. Of anyone in Dean’s life.

The ‘right’ to be jealous not being there didn’t seem to stop him though, whenever someone would crack and inside joke, and Dean’s face would light up, his laugh coming out loud and happy. Castiel found himself wishing that _he_ could make Dean laugh like that, smile so wide and bright. He ends up drinking far far more than usual, and after his fourth glass of wine realizes that maybe he should slow down, because he was caught up in a conversation with Bobby about restoration of old WWII planes, and he had no idea how he got there. Castiel didn’t even really _like_ WWII era planes.

And then Jo pipes up, and Castiel goes from being confused about the situation, to wanting to slip through a crack in the floor and just creep away.

He’s sure his face is red, he can feel it as he stutters, and then abruptly stands, face now terrified. He had to get out of there.

“I-..I need to go home. There’s…My cat. Needs feeding.”

Smart, Castiel. Real smart. He winces at what an idiot he sounds like, but bids everyone goodnight in a rush, and then quickly weaves his way around chairs to the front door, picking up his coat from the coat rack near the door.

Running away seemed like a good option, but he knew if he didn’t get out of there in that second, someone was going to track him down and make him stay longer. And Castiel wasn’t sure that he could take any more embarrassment for the evening.

~~~

Of course Cas reacts in the only reasonable way – he runs. Dean is on his feet only seconds after, following the other man without looking back at any member of his family. He just knows that they're going crazy this very moment and that they would pester him later as long as it would take to get all the details. So he runs, too, his sides hurting with every movement, and by the time he catches up, his hand gripping Castiel's wrist tightly, he's panting and gasping for air.

“Gee....Cas, man...”

He stops, trying to catch his breath and he feels Castiel's gaze heavy on him.

“Don't be such a...drama queen. I was just joking, okay?”

He lets go of Cas' arm then, taking a step backwards to lean against a light post, his breath still coming in small wheezes.

~~~

“Dean,” Castiel gasps, stepping closer, his hands coming up to support the other, but he’s unsure where to touch, as Dean had cuts all over, and Castiel certainly couldn’t touch his arms. He ends up just standing there, hands out, hovering over Dean’s upper arms as if he’s afraid the other is going to fall over any minute.

“You shouldn’t even be standing, much less running,” he admonishes, sighing and shaking his head. Castiel presses his lips together, the chapped plumpness of them thinning out as he glares at his partner. The look softens after a moment though, and soon Castiel is nothing but worried once again.

“…Are you okay?” He asks softly, so close that he could feel the warmth of Dean’s skin radiating out toward the palms of his hands.

~~~

  * „Course I am, I'm fine, just a little out of shape,“ Dean snaps and finally straightens up to look the other man in the eye.



„You're always running, Cas...I mean- what are you scared of?“

He feels nothing but confusion and disappointment in that moment and despite the stabbing pain he raises his arm, reaching for the collar of Cas' light jacket almost automatically.

„Why are you running from me?“ He says again and his voice is so small, so desperate.

And then he just decides to do it, to stop dealing with Castiel's bullshit any longer and he pulls him in to capture his lips in a kiss that's rough and demanding and definite and Cas stumbles over his own feet, as Dean pushes himself off the light post and against Cas, licking over the seam of Castiel's lips.

~~~

Castiel doesn’t really know what to say to Dean’s question. What is he scared of?

Everything.

He’s bewildered and terrified by Dean’s very presence; the smile that breaks over his face when he’s truly happy makes Castiel’s stomach tie itself into knots, the laugh Dean lets loose whenever someone’s told a dirty joke is even worse. Even the way Dean says his name, shortened and fond, ‘Cas’ instead of Castiel, gets to him; that word alone can make his chest tighten in anxiety, in fear, in need.

He shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak, but then Dean is kissing him. The hiss of pain that Dean lets out when he tugs Castiel doesn’t go un-noticed, Castiel moves, carefully rearranging Dean’s limbs, clutching the man’s face with both of his hands so Dean can relax into it. Castiel wasn’t going to run from it this time.

Even through the sparks of pleasure that start in his lips and slide right down to his cock, he’s still scared, but he fights it, pushes it down and away so he can concentrate on how good Dean feels against him. The other body is solid, sturdy and just slightly taller, Castiel’s head tilted up the tiniest bit to slot their lips together. He opens up under Dean’s tongue, a filthy moan slipping out of his throat without his permission, showing Dean just how much Castiel was enjoying this.

There are voices in the back of his head, screeching about how wrong it was to do this, that by being close to Dean like this he was putting them both in danger; and even worse, he was betraying Balthazar.

Above those though, was another voice. Balthazar’s voice, humming softly as Dean did, licking into Castiel’s mouth to taste and take. The hum becomes a song, the electric energy where skin met skin singing through him.

‘Danger Danger…High Voltage!’

The song startles him away, and he pulls back fast enough go off balance, barely managing to stay up right. Everything was still a little hazy, and god, Dean smelled so good. He licks his lips, tasting his partner there, and clears his throat.

“I’m not scared, Dean,” he begins, and then glares at Dean when the other starts to open his mouth to argue, “Let me finish. I said…I’m not scared, Dean. Not of you,” Castiel says softly, one of his hands brushing fingertips over Dean’s face, dancing over freckles that he had a serious fascination with.

“I don’t want to screw this up. You need to know that I can’t lose another partner. After Bal-…after….You _need_ to understand how bad that was for me. He,” Castiel cuts off, his eyes watering as he looks first up, the streetlight above only burning and making the tears worse, and then away from Dean, and the intimate situation they were in. “…was everything…to me. I need you to understand that I can’t do that again. If you want this, then this is all it is. Just…sex. Nothing more. We’ll be partners at work, and lovers in bed…but nothing more. I need you to be okay with that.”

Castiel’s eyes dart back and forth, staring back into Dean’s green ones, his face serious and worried at the same time. This was something that a lot of people would jump at the chance for, but Castiel didn’t know if Dean was one of those people.

~~~

Castiel's suggestion is surprising, to say the least. Dean's still a little breathless from how eagerly the other had returned the kiss but through all the haziness that had caused, the message sounds crystal clear. Him and Cas. Lovers. He has to admit there's nothing really past that statement that makes its way into his brain, the prospect of finally being with Cas too amazing, too relieving to leave room for anything else. He eventually brings himself to nod, face astonishingly serious and his voice quiet and calm.

“You won't lose me,” he says and takes a step closer, the tip of his nose brushing against Castiel's neck and the small shiver it causes brings a smile to his lips “I want this, Cas- I want you.”

He just wishes he could use his arms, wants to brush his hands over Cas' sides, find out if he's ticklish and touch him, just touch wherever he could reach. Instead his lips gently graze where neck meets shoulder, just mere inches from where a bandage covers the graze shot wound and he breathes the next words into Cas' skin.

“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you, Cas...”

~~~

Castiel shudders at Dean’s gentleness, something he wasn’t used to anymore. It had been months since he’d been like this with anyone; he couldn’t even bring himself to go for a one night stand with some random guy from a bar. The touch of Dean’s skin against his though, it feels good, amazing, and he gives into it. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders, one hand pressing into the center of his back to keep him close, the other scraping blunt nails along Dean’s scalp, through his short shorn hair.

“Dean,” he sighs, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady, not let it waver like it wants to. He needed to keep this about sex, about two men getting together out of convenience and sexual attractive. Because that’s all it was. He and Dean had undeniable chemistry. It crackled between them from a simple look. But that was all there was.

Castiel didn’t stay up at night thinking back over some smart comment Dean had made, wondering if Dean even knew how intelligent he was, because he never seemed to show it unless no one else was around. He didn’t. That would mean he was interested in the man currently in his arms, as more than his work partner and fuck buddy. And he wasn’t.

Denial was a wonderful thing…

~~~

They stand like this for a minute, breathing each other in and Dean shuts his eyes, reveling in the moment. He kisses Cas' collarbone and up his neck, gently biting his earlobe and pressing kisses against his cheekbone. His eyes are still close when he leans their foreheads against each other and whispers “I need you” and “now”.

There's a short, muffled discussion about Dean's apartment being too crowded and Cas' too far away and Cas ends up silencing Dean with a kiss. They catch a cab and Dean simply tells the driver to take them to the nearest hotel. He's waiting in a dark corner of the small and shabby-looking place, while Cas pays for the room and when they're finally out of the elevator and Cas is unlocking the door, Dean can't hold back anymore. Cas is so gentle with him, not daring to touch him until Dean's shirt is gone and he can see the fresh marks covering his body. They kiss and it's nothing like that kiss on the street. It's full of desire but also gentle and desperate and Dean can't help the small, needy sounds escaping him every now and then.

 It is beyond frustrating not being able to rip off Castiel's clothes but watching him strip as he's kneeling above him does make up for it more than enough. They kiss again and Dean lets Cas take him as he pleases, the older man's tongue touching his own and sending sparks through his whole body. The floor is covered with their clothes, discarded the moment the buttons gave way, and soon Castiel's naked chest presses against Dean's own and he can feel his heartbeat pounding through his body.

“Cas,” he gasps “Cas please...”

~~~

Dean is impatient to get somewhere they can be alone, so even though Castiel feels guilty for leaving without saying anything, they get out of there and head to the nearest hotel. Castiel figures that Dean’s family and friends will either figure it out, or not. Either way, Dean is going to be the one getting an earful, not him, so he just goes with it.

Soon they’re at the hotel, and after slipping the cabbie a twenty, Castiel gets them a room with a King size bed on the far end of the hotel. He didn’t personally like to hear other people having sex while he was focusing on the person he was with; the mental image of the first time he and Balthazar had been pulled from soft whispers mid sex by screaming and a slamming headboard next-door makes his chest tighten painfully. Castiel shakes off the memories though, now was not the time to be thinking about Balthazar. Not with Dean staring at him like that, with green eyes that were dark with hunger. He swallows hard, beginning to regret saying yes to Dean, to giving in to the other man’s constant pushing; but then Dean’s lips are on his, and he’s whispering Castiel’s nickname against them, and Castiel is lost to everything else in the world.

Clothes are torn off, and Castiel is as careful as he can possibly be with Dean, not jostling his shoulders as he lays the man down on the bed, just staring at Dean for a long moment. They’d changed in front of one another on more than one occasion in the locker room at the precinct; but this was so different from that, it was in another universe. Dean’s skin is dimly lit from the flashing neon sign outside, the blues and pinks dancing over dipping muscle and jutting bone, and Castiel can’t stop himself from leaning in to mouth up Dean’s stomach, worshipping the slight softness there, leading up to heaving ribs.

“Cas,” Dean whispers again, and Castiel lets out a sigh, his body rippling with goosebumps just from that name, and a little from the coldness of so much bare skin. He works Dean’s jeans off, slowly, peeling them down over his hips as he kisses at his partner’s mouth, slow and biting. Dean makes a broken sound when Castiel pushes his teeth together around the plumpness of Dean’s lower lip, and Castiel groans as his cock jumps in his boxers. He quickly strips Dean the rest of the way, eyes wide, blown away by the expanse of lightly tanned, freckled skin in front of him.

“Dean…you are so beautiful,” he whispers, before crawling back on the bed and kissing up Dean’s thigh, scraping his teeth over a jutting hipbone. He grins against the warm skin beneath his lips when Dean’s legs part automatically, Dean shoving up against Castiel’s firm hold.

“Shh…I’ll take care of you,” he grumbles softly, moving over to lick and mouth at the already leaking head of Dean’s cock. There were freckles there, even, dots that spoke of time spent, naked, in the sun. Castiel groans and then takes Dean inside his mouth, sucking gently, licking to wet the warm, sticky skin. He knew he could make this good for Dean, make the other man dizzy with it, and so Castiel threw himself into it, working down to the base, to bury his nose in the coarse wiry hair curling around Dean’s shaft.

~~~

The sound that comes over his lips when Cas goes down on him is high-pitched and downright salacious and Dean couldn't care less. It's all wet heat and skilled licks from then on and the way Cas makes him wreathe on the bed has him straining his shoulders more than once. It hurts like a bitch but Dean's too busy reveling in the ecstasy the other man is bringing him, every flash of pain instantly outshone by blinding rapture. When Cas swallows around him, Dean bucks off the bed with a hoarse cry and he can feel his partner smile around him. He can't restrain from lifting one of his hands from where it's been lying loosely at his side to weave into Cas' dark hair, thumb stroking softly over his temple.

“-d-don't stop, don't stop, Cas,” he manages in between soft panting breaths.

For the first time he lifts his head just as much as necessary to watch himself disappearing in Cas' mouth and the view itself is almost enough to make him come. His grip in Castiel's hair tightens and his head drops back on the pillow.

~~~

Dean’s panting has Castiel’s cock straining against his own slacks, the zipper almost painful as it presses against the sensitive flesh through his boxers. He grunts and shoves a hand down, quickly unzipping and taking himself in hand as he continues to work Dean over.

Castiel shoves a hand against Dean’s chest, pressing him down and keeping his body pinned to the mattress. He could tell Dean wanted to sit up, but there was no way he could, not without leaning on his arms, and Castiel wasn’t allowing that. The sooner Dean’s shoulders healed, the sooner Castiel could fuck him like he wanted to.

The mental image of slamming into Dean makes Castiel moan around Dean’s cock, suck harder and bob his head faster. He hadn’t given in to the thoughts about Dean in a while, shoving them to some dark, barricaded corner of his mind, where he could pretend they didn’t exist. Now that he was doing this, they all were coming flooding out again, and Castiel grunts as his hand works faster over his own cock, his lips straining to keep tight around Dean and failing. His chest was heaving now, almost matching Dean’s own, the way the man beneath him was thrashing, calling out his name like a prayer, like Castiel was a god- Cas was sure he wasn’t going to last that long, this time around.

~~~

Cas shifts on top of him and Dean opens his eyes just a crack to see the other man touching himself. A moan drips off his lips at the view and his hips buck up once more, closer, pushing himself deeper into Castiel's mouth.

“Cas, Cas,” he gasps, biting his lower lip as he tries to suppress another long-stretched moan.

Dean doesn't have time to warn Cas when he feels the shiver run through his body, the only sign his fingers scratching over the other man's scalp. It's the fastest Dean remembers coming since high school and he should be embarrassed but simply is not. All he's feeling is happy and warm and so utterly satisfied, he could die, right then and there.

He looks down then, where Cas pulls off of him, licking his lips as he keeps stroking himself and Dean catches his gaze and holds it, eyes half closed in the pleasant afterglow.

“Come on, Cas,” he whispers, licking his own lips enthusiastically “God, you're so good, such a talented tongue, Jesus Christ-”

He pauses to catch his breath, lifting his hips enough to rub against Castiel's pelvis, eliciting a sweet moan from the other man.

~~~

Castiel would have choked when Dean comes, except the second he smells the telltale pungent scent he shoves his mouth all the way down, and just lets it happen; Dean comes down his throat, and he swallows everything he can, morning softly as he pulls away. The look on Dean’s face makes every second of it even better, the fucked out flush riding high on his cheekbones making Castiel only harder in his own hand.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss Dean, push some of the salt bitter taste into Dean’s own mouth. He strokes himself hard, shaking as he tries to kiss and breathe at the same time, ending up just hovering over Dean as he jerks himself off. His pants protest as he widens his stance slightly, still clinging to his thighs, his boxers barely pushed down under his balls, the pressure against his perineum strangely pleasant. Castiel kisses Dean again, and when Dean threads that hand through his hair again, tugs on it and whispers ‘Cas’ once more, Castiel comes with a cry.

He spends over Dean’s stomach, pools of it forming as he slowly finishes, shaky breath puffing out against Dean’s neck from where Castiel collapsed. He quickly realizes he shouldn’t be putting any weight on Dean at all, and rolls up and away, wincing when his sensitive slowly deflating cock brushes against the top of his own pants. He kicks them off and then wanders into the bathroom, not bothering to flick on the light as he wets two washcloths, bringing one back for Dean so they can both clean up.

~~~

He watches Cas leave the room for only a second before he's back and gently rubbing the cloth over Dean's naked body. He's still sensitive so every small touch makes him sigh, a smile spreading on his lips at the soft caresses. Cas lies back down again, naked this time, and pulls the blanket over the two of them, one hand on Dean's chest, his forehead resting against the side of Dean's face. They stay like this for a while, quiet and comfortable. Dean watches shadows dance on the ceiling, listening to Cas breathing by his side. Eventually he turns his head enough to kiss the bridge of Castiel's nose, flicking his tongue out to lick droplets of sweat off his brow.

He laughs then, the vibration of it sending shivers down Castiel's spine.

“So worth the wait,” he says and he means it. He's had sex, plenty of it, but this is different. This is Cas.

~~~

Castiel looks up at Dean then, eyes wide with shock, face flushing slowly. That…the way Dean looked at him just now, that wasn’t the way you looked at someone you just fucked. That was the way you looked at someone you cared deeply for. Someone you possibly loved. The realization sends a jolt through Castiel, and he sits up suddenly, heart pounding in his head until it’s all he can hear.

He clears his throat and slides up, off the bed, reaching for his clothes. “I’m…We should get you home,” he says haltingly, not even bothering to look back over at Dean while he dresses.

~~~

He regrets his words the moment they come over his lips. He knew he'd fuck this up. Who is he fooling? This, no matter how amazing it had felt, had been a mistake. Now that he'd had him, now that he'd seen his face as he came, had felt his hands all over his body, Dean knows there's no turning back. He watches the other man dress with his back turned on him and it hurts, more than the burns and cuts and bruises and broken bones ever could. Sitting up takes enormous effort but he doesn't wait for Cas to look at him again, doesn't ask for his help. This is sex, nothing but two men searching comfort in physical closeness, and if he ever wants to see that face again, feel those hands on his body and hear the rough voice saying his name he's got to pull himself together and start treating this as what it is.

Cas helps him getting dressed wordlessly and Dean would laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. When the door falls shut behind them, it feels strange and final, so Dean takes a few quick steps to catch up with Cas and brushes his hand carefully against the other man's. He smiles encouragingly then and after short hesitation his smile is returned. Dean exits the hotel first, waiting by the side of the road for Cas to hail them a cab and open the door for him. The drive back to Dean's apartment is quiet but it's a more comfortable, deliberate silence.They stand by the door for a moment, neither of them sure of what to say, so Dean leans down eventually, brushing his lips over Cas' in a sweet goodbye-kiss.

“That was nice,” he whispers against the warm skin and smiles, forcing it to be suggestive instead of blissful “Let's do that again soon.”  
And without waiting for a reply he slips inside, anxious of the angry family that would be waiting for him undoubtedly.

Castiel feels like there’s a pressure on his chest the entire ride back to Dean’s apartment. It had been more than awkward, to watch the way Dean’s face fell like that, the blissed out expression replaced almost reluctantly with something far more stoic. It’s weird, but he almost regrets being the reason for Dean’s change of attitude, even though he knows that in the end, it’s for the better.

The kiss when Dean gets out of the car is breath-taking, even if it only lasts for a moment, and then Dean is pulling away, his warm green eyes sparkling with what looks like mischief. Castiel croaks out a soft ‘Definitely’, before the cab driver pulls impatiently away. Castiel doesn’t look back at the door, watching Dean go inside, making sure he’s safe. Not for that long, anyway.

He directs the driver back to his own apartment, and fiddles with his phone, absentmindedly checking emails, basketball scores, even the texts from his brother that he’d been ignoring. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that he could still smell Dean on his skin.


	10. Best way to celebrate EVER

A week passes without a word from either man. Upon his return Dean had to deal with Sam and Jo, the rest of his family already had left, who demanded answers he wouldn't give them. They leave only when Dean literally kicks them out, promising to open the door to them when they would stop by to bring him groceries the next day. The thing is – having both of your shoulders dislocated had sucked royally when it happened. Not being able to move, open a door or pulling his own pants down to go to the restroom is fucking hell. Dean's reluctant to ask for help, even when Sam tells him time and time again that he's behaving like a complete idiot. He's also not calling Cas. He tries not to think of him but fails; it seems that nearly everything reminds him of the other man and the fact that for days the phone doesn't ring with any proof of life from him doesn't exactly help.

By the time Cas does call, Dean is borderline paranoid, not quite believing his partner, when he promises to stop by later that afternoon with beer and burgers. Only when Cas takes the bottle out of Dean's weak hand and replaces the bottleneck with his own mouth, Dean sighs in relief and drinks Castiel in, the tangy taste of beer on their tongues. They hang out a lot in the next few weeks and make out almost as much, on the couch, the carpet, against the fridge but never in Dean's bed. Neither of them says it but it seems intimate, too intimate, too personal. Something that would somehow cross the line Castiel drew.

Dean goes to therapy twice a week now and it's just as bad as he thought it would be. The guy must be in his mid-fifties and he's bald and a know-it-all and frankly that's all Dean needs to know about him. So he tells him what he wants to hear, spills out the details of his torment and as much as he tries not to show it, it does affects him. Nightmares replace dreams and deep slumber and somewhere along the way he stops sleeping at all. It doesn't stay unnoticed, of course, and about a week later Ellen drags him to yet another doctor who prescribes herbal tea, sleeping pills and therapy. More therapy.

Of course there's also physical therapy, which he starts about six weeks after the...'incident' and the progress, though slow, is undeniably motivating. Returning from another successful session he gets off the taxi and takes two steps at a time up the staircase. Once he reached his floor he pulls his cellphone out and dials Cas' number.

“Hey partner,” he chimes as he's unlocking the door to his apartment and steps inside “Come on over, I got a surprise for you.”

~~~

As time passes and Dean heals, Castiel is finding himself more and more drawn to the other man. It’s not easy, trying to squash the feelings that bubble up inside him every time Dean cracks a dirty joke, or steals food off Castiel’s fork. Everything they do is so very domestic, and it makes going home after they’ve grunted and sighed their way to mutual orgasms all the more difficult. But he does it. Every single time they’re done, Castiel stays just long enough to clean up, and then he’s gone, out the door, back to his lonely-too-big apartment. It’s just better that way.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

So when the phone rings after a long day of absolutely _nothing_ but Jerry Springer (a guilty pleasure) and Ben  & Jerry’s (an even guiltier one), Castiel is quick to agree to come over.

He showers first though, and drives over through rush hour traffic, taking almost an hour to get to Dean’s apartment after the phone call. Luckily, there’s parking on the street, so Cas parks and then jumps out, heading up to the door in jeans and a t-shirt, a light green jacket over his shoulders, stubble over his chin. He knocks, and when Dean opens the door, he holds up the six pack of beer almost as an offering, his other hand holding a bag of groceries he’d gotten the night before.

“Dean,” Castiel greets, the slightest smile on his lips as Dean lets him into the apartment.

~~~

Waiting is a downright torture and Dean realizes once again that patience is not one of his virtues. Which is why when Cas finally knocks, Dean can't bring himself to delay the inevitable any longer. Cas' eyes widen in surprise as Dean raises his right hand to grab his collar and pull him inside, the plastic bag dropping to the ground with a rustling sound. Their lips hover over each other and Dean smiles, his eyes meeting Castiel's, their noses bumping lightly.

“I'm making good progress,” he states the obvious and as he's moving his hips forward, grinding them against the other man's, his smile gets even brighter “I wanna celebrate.”

He licks his lips and from this distance Cas can hear the slick sound of his tongue gliding over his lips. Slowly Dean lets his hand travel south, over Castiel's heaving chest, drawing circles on the muscled abdomen through his shirt and eventually slipping underneath it to brush through thin, dark hair growing just below his bellybutton. The sixpack is dropped to the floor with a dull thump that neither of them acknowledges.

Dean takes a step backwards then, laughing softly at the displeased sound that escapes Castiel's lips, but the way Dean's eyes darken as he makes his way backwards through the hallway and in the living-room is promising enough for Cas to forget about him being a tease and follow him eagerly. Dean turns them and gently pushes the other man onto the couch, the hurt he'd felt moving his arms and hands over the past few weeks nothing but a distant straining sensation now, and sits down on top of him quickly. The smile is still on his lips as he brings their groins together and licks a trail up Castiel's neck, stopping to hover close to his ear.

“I want you, Cas,” Dean says and catches his earlobe between his teeth “I want you to fuck me.”

~~~

Castiel is just a little shocked. Up until last week, Dean had been wincing with every movement of his arms, struggling to open doors or reach for things. And now he was pulling Castiel close with a ferocity that made a fire blaze in Castiel’s gut. He licks his own lips, nervous almost, when Dean shoves him onto the couch; his eyes go wide and he stares up at Dean when Dean crawls over him, hands automatically going to his hips, gripping and helping the slide of Dean’s crotch against his own. It elicits a long groan from Castiel, and he can’t help but almost choke on an inhale when Dean speaks next.

Thus far in this whatever-it-was, they’d only done handjobs, the occasional blowjob, rutting and coming against each other like teenagers. There’d been no penetrative sex, and Castiel had thought that it was just as well; that was more than he had been ready for at the time. But over the past few weeks, he’d been waking up, sweaty and rock hard, from dreams of Dean crying out his name while Castiel fucked him into a mattress.

He swallows hard and licks his lips again, brow furrowing up and to the center of his forehead as he stares up at Dean.

“Are you sure?” He asks, squinting slightly. Castiel wasn’t about to dive into this if Dean couldn’t handle it. Because this was still just them, fucking around, getting each other off for mutual benefit. There wasn’t an underlying emotional current that was just waiting to explode and shower everything with far, far too many feelings.

Nope.

~~~

Dean laughs at that, nudging Castiel's side lightly with his elbow.

“Course I am, dummy,” he mutters and presses his lips to Castiel's neck, sucking until a dark bruise is blooming on the pale skin.

“I know you've been holding back and I know you want it, too. So let's stop fooling around and start fooling around!”

His smile widens to a grin at those last words, his eyes crinkling with pure joy, the pleasant buzz of anticipation vibrating through his whole body.

“So, how do you want me, Cas?”

~~~

Castiel stares up at Dean for a second, just staring in awe at the man who was both a complete and utter dork, and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He lets out a growl and flips them, laying Dean down on the couch length wise, before crawling on top of him, straddling his hips to pin him to the surface of the plush cushions.

“Hard, fast, rough,” he bites out between hard kisses, his hands already working on Dean’s shirt, tugging it up to reveal the smooth expanse of stomach, the small amount of softness over hard muscle perfect beneath his questing fingers. For some reason, the lack of a six pack just popping out whenever Dean took off his shirt only made Castiel harder, more eager to strip himself bare and lay spread out for Dean to just take as he pleased. There was something so damned erotic about that patch of skin, barely furred in a beautiful treasure trail from his belly button down to his cock, soft and yielding for the barest bit, until his fingers encountered the muscle just sleeping beneath. Castiel had come against that stomach several times, and every time the twitch of muscles and heave of Dean’s chest just made him want to do it all over again.

He shudders as his grabs hold of Dean’s hips, pushing his own down to rut against Dean, before sitting up abruptly to peel off his jacket, and then his shirt. His own leanly muscled frame almost matched Dean’s, the small differences speaking volumes when they were like this though, pressed up against one another, moving in sync.

“Dean,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the man’s jawline, hand working down to rub over his partner’s length through Dean’s pants. “You’re so hard,” he says, the obviousness of it lost in the pure lust in his voice as he strokes Dean, conforms his fingers around the length, presses at the head and groans when he feels dampness.

“Fuck…”

~~~

He's reduced to low moans and gasping breaths from then on, Cas' hand wrapping around his cock cool initially but warming up quickly as he keeps stroking him. Somehow through the haze of lust Castiel's voice cuts through and Dean wants to laugh but Cas is right, he's so goddamn hard. He has to reach down, stop Cas from going on, the confident movements and that determined look on Castiel's face almost enough to make him come already. He shifts underneath the other man, lets him pull off his jeans and underwear and watches as Cas strips as well. The first slide of naked skin against naked skin is delicious and Dean lets out a long-stretched groan.

“-nh, Cas,” he mutters, teeth biting down on his lower lip hard as he feels the other man's length against his hipbone “Need it, need you so bad...”

The way Cas has him stretched out is exhilarating but frustrating at the same time. While he can use his arms better than before he still won't be able to handle Cas the way he wants to. Another time, he tells himself and mouths at the skin above Cas' heart. One of his hands brushes over his partner's side then, encircling his body to rest on his buttocks and the way the look on Cas' face changes tells Dean this is good, this is very good. He pulls him closer, much closer and ruts his hips up again, his fingers trailing over the warm skin and teasing but never quite finding that spot.

“Want your cock inside of me, Cas…come on-”

He doesn't know how he manages to stop touching Cas long enough to reach for the coffee table where he'd placed a bottle of lube as a matter of prudence and hand it to the other man. He watches Cas drip a generous amount of the gel on his hands, rubbing them to warm it up before reaching down to prepare him.

The first touch to his hole is a mixture of pleasure, pain and excitement. He would be lying if he didn't touch himself thinking of his partner over the past couple of weeks and longer and he'd briefly thought about preparing himself before Cas showed up tonight. But this is special, he's too far gone, he can't even try to deny it. This is Cas and Dean wants to feel everything, experience everything with him.

~~~

Castiel is a little stunned by how vocal Dean is being. Usually he’s loud, but it’s almost always groans or other sounds of pleasure. Dean doesn’t talk this much when Cas has his mouth around Dean’s cock. He bites down  on his lower lip to prevent himself from saying as much, and pushes the finger that’s inside Dean further, thrusting it gently in and out, and adding more lube when he thinks he needs it. Soon it’s an easy slide, and Castiel brushes the finger up, in search of Dean’s prostate.

When he finds it, it’s easy to tell, because Dean lets out a shout and arches up off the couch, gasping for breath. Cas grins at that, and does it again, letting out a soft laugh, his smile turning wicked as he realizes that Dean’s prostate seems to be far more sensitive than Castiel could have hoped for.

“You’re so sensitive,” he teases, brushes the bundle of nerves again, and then stroking Dean’s cock with his other hand as he pushes two fingers in, the stretch sure to burn. Dean was too tight for it not to.

~~~

Fuck, it hurts. Dean is so torn between crying out in pleasure as Cas keeps brushing over his prostate and cursing under his breath at the stretch.

“No sh-shit,” he utters the rest of what he had planned to say drowned out by another load moan.

He moves his lower body, meeting Castiel's small pushes, so utterly desperate for more. One thing's for certain, he wouldn't last long. Not with the way Cas is smiling down at him and crooking his fingers time and time again. He already knows that Cas likes to tease him, likes to get him all flustered and then retreats, repeating this until Dean has no choice but to beg for him to finish. It's the same now, Cas pushing his fingers inside of him, kneading the bundle of muscle just long enough for Dean's breath to hitch, before pulling out, his other hand almost absentmindedly stroking over his younger partner's cock.

“Goddammit Cas just fuck me already,” he yells out eventually, gripping Cas' wrist and glaring up at him.

~~~

Castiel’s eyes go wide when Dean yells at him, before they narrow and he glares down at Dean. “ _No_. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says roughly, thrusting the pair of fingers harder into Dean.

“So you can just suck it up, Dean,” Castiel pushes harder, scissoring the fingers on the way out, the way the muscle refuses to give hotter than anything Castiel’s ever felt. He carefully works a third finger in, and distracts Dean from the pain by leaning down and blowing him, mouth working in slow incremental movements down the length of Dean’s cock. It doesn’t take long then, before Dean’s hitching hips and Castiel’s thrusting fingers work him loose, loose enough that he feels like it won’t hurt too much for Castiel to get inside of him.

Castiel was surprised the first time they’d been naked together. Dean was far thicker, but shorter than Castiel, by at least an inch. Cas knew, from his own curiosity as a teenager, that he was almost 8 inches, but not as girthy as Dean was. Where Dean was cleanly cut, the head of his cock always exposed, dripping and pink, Castiel wasn’t, which had fascinated the other man the first time he’d gone down on Cas. Now it was just another one of the differences between them, something to look at and catalogue whenever Castiel had time, whenever he was thinking about Dean. Which was more often than not, the past few weeks.

He quickly fumbles for a condom, smirking when he spies the veritable pile of them on the table where the lube had been placed, and rips one open before sliding it on. He didn’t mind them, even though Dean hated the feel and taste and smell. Castiel wasn’t going to go bare, not without tests; he wasn’t going to risk either of them like that. He groans as he slicks himself up, shifting on the couch to put one foot flat on the floor for balance and leverage, before he leans over Dean and brushes the head of his cock against Dean’s entrance slowly.

“Guide me Dean…tell me if it’s too much,” he commands, his tone no-nonsense and serious, before he starts pushing in, Castiel letting out a slow moan at the utter tight heat that opens up around his cock.

~~~

Dean wants to throw something back at him, something along the lines of 'never could get enough of you' – but then Cas is pushing inside of him and his vision goes white for a few, painful seconds. Maybe that whole saving-himself and not-preparing-himself thing hadn't been that good an idea... His hands find leverage on Castiel's arm, the muscles moving steadily beneath the hot skin. He drops his head back to where he'd arched off the couch when Cas sunk in, his mouth open in a silent cry. He thinks he hears the other man speak, mumbling questions, his voice thick with worry and a gentleness that makes Dean's chest constrict. He manages to shake his head, holding onto Cas even more tightly.

"-m okay...I'm okay, Cas, just...gimme a s-sec..."

He can't tell how long it takes for his body to adjust, to get used to the stretch of skin, the thick cock filling him up like it was made for this. When he does he opens his lids, looking up at Cas through eyes clouded with lust and pain, and nods.

The first few thrusts are slow, careful, the slick sound of skin on skin making Dean's whole body vibrate. He's still holding onto Castiel, fingers scraping over the skin of his arm as the other man starts picking up a rhythm and Dean feels the pain subside with every movement, making way for delicious pleasure. It sparks from where their bodies meet up Dean's spine, to his fingertips and back down to his toes. He's trembling, his lips hanging open with zoned-out praises. And then Cas finds his prostate and Dean bucks off the couch with an incredulous look on his face, a sound half laugh half cry escaping his throat.

He loses track of time as Cas does it again and again, slamming inside of him by now, each thrust hitting that spot and making Dean see stars. He doesn't want it to end, never wants Cas to be anywhere but inside of him and he wants to tell him so badly but every time he opens his eyes all he sees is the blissful look on the other man's face and he remembers his words, each of them cutting into his skin like rusty knives.

_'If you want this, then this is all it is,'_ he'd said, _'Just…sex. Nothing more.'_

So Dean keeps his mouth shut except for the inevitable moans and gasps and to tell Cas how good he feels and that he needs him harder, faster. He tries to ignore the truth he'd realized somewhere along the way; The fact that this is all a lie, a fairytale he'd decided to keep telling if he only could be close to Castiel.

_'Just...sex,'_ Dean thinks and shuts his eyes against the tears that well up unavoidably, _'Nothing more.'_ They change positions somewhere along the way, Dean kneeling above Cas now and sinking down on his cock. The other man is holding him, taking care he doesn't put too much pressure on his arms and hands and it's perfect. When Cas turns them again, they roll off the couch and onto the carpet and the feel of the rough material on his back makes Dean, if possible, even harder.

~~~

Dean is quieter than Castiel would have imagined, with how talkative the other man was, how boisterous, Castiel had for some reason assumed that Dean was toppy bottom, taking what he needed with force. Instead Dean just opens up under him like a flower, sighing and clinging, and Castiel feels it get too intense, too intimate, more than once.

They switch positions each time, a tap on a hip or a grunt all he needs for Dean to move, and then they’re back at it, Castiel sliding back inside like it’s home, and that’s where he belongs. He groans as he pushes inside of Dean again, the other man’s back scratching along the carpet, and Castiel does his best to hold onto the man’s hips as he starts fucking back inside, thrusts hard and snapping. He groans, head falling back as Dean tightens around him, lifts his hips, and keens.

The sounds that his partner makes get to Castiel, crawl underneath his skin and burrow there. Every moan, every sobbed ‘CAS!’ making Castiel never want to leave; he wants to always have this, and the realization of it terrifies him.

He flips Dean over, so he’s on his hands and knees, and enters him again, roughly, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the living room.

“Fuck, _Dean_ -“ Cas breaks off, hips stuttering. “Touch yourself…c..gonna come…c’mon, _c’mon_ ,” he begs, orders, and keeps going, faster now, his hips pistoning forward. Dean was sure to have rug burn on his knees and palms by the end of this, but Castiel can’t bring himself to care. His fingers dig into Dean’s hips, pressing bruises into the fleshy bits there, growling out Dean’s name once more before he’s shoving inside in rough, broken hitches, and coming hard.

Castiel is lost for a long moment, awash in a blanket of sparkling colors, dancing in the black field behind shut eyes. He shudders as the pleasure breaks him, makes him weak and unable to hold himself up, so he drops down, bracing himself with both hands on other side of Dean, the movement pushing the other man’s face almost to the rug beneath them. Castiel is still panting, breathing hot humid air out against Dean’s sweaty back, and he can’t stop himself from placing kisses there, the divet between Dean’s shoulder blades so beautiful it would be a travesty not to touch it.

~~~

When Cas comes Dean feels it as intense as if it was himself. His whole body is shaking, twitching above him as the other man tries to get closer, even now that he's emptying himself in the condom deep inside of Dean. He slips out then and Dean nearly starts crying at the loss, the sudden emptiness. Cas rolls off of him then, continuing to kiss over his neck, his shoulder blades and Dean flips over, reaching down with one hand and jerking himself off. He feels Castiel's eyes on him, even as he keeps his own closed in concentration and the knowledge that he's being watched is way too hot to bear. It doesn't take long, a minute tops, his hand working frantically and then he's coming, too, Castiel's name on his lips as he cries out in a mixture of pleasure and regret. He wants so bad for Cas to lean down, to join him as he's lying on the carpet, panting, glowing with satisfaction. He wants Cas to wrap his arms around him, to hold him, to brush his lips over his temples and whisper sweet nothings against his hair. He wants it so bad, he wants it...so bad...

But Cas doesn't bend down to kiss him, doesn't lie down next to him. Dean opens his eyes and Cas is still looking at him and Dean can't interpret the look on his face. Eventually he sits up, the back of his arms raw with carpet burn and his ass aching from how hard Cas had taken him. He crawls over to where the other man's kneeling and climbs in his lap, legs on both sides of Castiel's body as they tip over and Cas is the one on his back with Dean above him. The younger man grins down at him, bending to brush their lips against each other.

“Mmmh, that was good...,” he hums and smiles against Cas' lips.

~~~

Castiel is still too shocked to move, the vision that Dean makes far too lovely to look away. He watches as the other man moves, glowing and sweaty and arching up into his fist as he strokes himself to completion. Castiel has to swallow down an echo of a moan as Dean comes, has to stop himself from leaning down and licking him clean, kissing Dean hard and waiting just a few minutes, until he could be ready again.

Instead he holds utterly still, until Dean crawls onto his lap and practically shoves him over. Castiel lands with a soft ‘oof’, and then Dean’s lips are on his, so he doesn’t even have time to complain. He hums in agreement, then smiles softly back, hands coming up to wrap around Dean’s back, sliding over slick skin.

“Mm…yes, it was. And it appears that your arms are almost better, given how well you supported yourself just now,” he says with a teasing voice, arching a brow at Dean and smirking.

“Good thing…only a few more days of leave.”

~~~

“Oh shut up,” Dean retorts, silencing him with his lips once more.

God, he could kiss Cas for hours without doing anything else, without moving or breathing. He might just as well die kissing those chapped lips, tasting his tongue and breathing him in. Later Dean gets up, his legs still a little shaky as he's waiting for Cas to follow him to the bathroom. They step under the warm jet of water together, letting it clean the sweat and cum off their bodies. Cas fucks him again, this time slow and steady and it's Dean who comes first, hands flat against the glass shower door.

He watches Cas get dressed and follows him out in the hallway, leaning against the door frame as Cas steps outside and puts on his thin jacket.

“Can't you stay?”

The words come unexpectedly and Dean regrets them the very second they come over his lips. Cas looks so terribly confused and Dean can't tell if he's angry or glad or afraid and it drives him insane.

“I'm sorry...I'm sorry, forget it.”

He takes a deep breath, forces himself to smile, a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“See you, partner.”

The door falls shut before Cas can reply. Before he would get mad, before he would call everything off...before he would tell Dean to get out of his office and out of his life.

Dean lies awake that night, clad in only boxershorts on the rough living room carpet, staring at the shadows dancing at the ceiling until the sun rises and chases them away. He only realizes he's been crying when he raises his hands to his face, feels the dried up tears on his cheeks, stiff and chastising and he knows. He knows that this has been a mistake. That this had done nothing but harm. That this damaged, this distanced man had become the most important person in his life. That he's in love with Castiel.

~~~

“Bye…Dean,” Castiel says to the closed door, eyebrows arching up in confusion. What had that been about? He stares at the door for a second longer, frowning at it when it won’t answer his question, before he turns around and walks down the path to the street, where his car was thankfully still safely parked. He climbs in and heads home, falling asleep almost the second his head hits the mattress. It’s not a dreamless sleep though.

Castiel dreams the same dream he always has. There’s a darkened warehouse, echoes of shoes on a concrete floor, and then a shot rings out. He’s running, running through the darkness, toward a patch of light that filters down from a broken skylight, the rays illuminating a figure that lays on the cold concrete, bleeding out. He comes to a skidding halt on his knees next to the man, and picks him up, just like in every single dream before this one, and Castiel already knows it’s too late- he can’t save him. Something’s different though, and Castiel wakes with a shout, eyes opened wide into the darkness of the night as he’s ripped from the dream by the realization.

The man in his arms hadn’t been Balthazar. It was Dean.


	11. Flashbacks Aren't Always Fun

Castiel lays back down, but can’t sleep. The blinking red alarm clock tells him that four hours pass before he finally gives up, and gets out of bed. He showers and puts on a clean pair of slacks, a white button up, and a blue tie.

He leaves the beige overcoat hanging on the wall and grabs his keys and leaves.

He’s gone five seconds before he comes back inside his apartment, grabs the coat and slips it on, then leaves again.

Castiel goes to work, not because his leave is up, but because he can’t stand to stay home, alone, and he knows that Dean has physical therapy in a building near the office. Maybe Dean would like to grab some lunch.

The thought sticks with him until noon, and then Castiel texts Dean a simple greeting.

Cas: Good afternoon Dean. Lunch?

~~~

He falls asleep sometime around 8 in the morning, eyes heavy with tears and fatigue. The sound of his phone vibrating on the living room table is what wakes him and for a couple of minutes he's disoriented and downright pissed at the sudden, unwelcome sound. When he checks his phone and sees the text though, it's a whole different set of emotions that struggle for the upper hand. In the end its pure and simple longing that wins and Dean texts back 'i'll pick u up in an hour'.

He tries not to spend too much time in front of the mirror, deciding on a simple dark red shirt and jeans when he finally leaves his apartment. The appointment with his therapist would be later that afternoon, so Dean wouldn't have to hurry off right after lunch. Cas had sent another text to let him know he was at the office, and exactly an hour later Dean parks the Impala outside the precinct, sitting behind the wheel for a good five minutes, pondering if the other man would show up soon or if he would have to go inside to get him.

Fortunately Cas exits the building a minute later, crossing the street and sliding inside the car.

“Hey,” Dean says and tries his best to sound casual.

'Don't look at him,' he tells himself 'He'll see...he'll know...'

“Where you wanna go?“

~~~

“Harvey’s,” Castiel says as he buckles up, turning back around to look up at Dean. “And Hello, Dean.”

Castiel’s morning had been filled with reorganizing his office, which had been practically ransacked thanks to the interdepartmental investigation that had happened, concerning Meg Masters and her involvement with Azazel and the trafficking ring. He’d gotten about halfway through the stack of paperwork that Ash had brought him, print outs of the digital copies he’d made of the originals that Meg had stolen, before Castiel had realized he was just…done.

He needed a break, and burgers and brew from Harvey’s sounded like the perfect way to enjoy it.

~~~

Dean nods and turns on the engine of his car. Harvey's is not far away and they make it there in less than five minutes. Dean gets out of the car first, locking the doors once Cas steps out as well and making his way over the street to the restaurant. It's dimly lit and stuffed, as usual, so Dean and Cas sit down outside on the patio under a huge parasol. Before either is able to start a conversation, the waiter brings water and the menu and Dean hides his face behind the carte. They order burgers and fries and while Cas chooses beer, Dean sticks with water. He's never felt this uncertain, this weak before. He's just not sure what he would say or do if he let himself become even a little tipsy.

Soon Cas talks about his day, about how their office was a mess and how frustrating it was to try and get everything back in order and Dean listens, he really does, but he's so terribly distracted by how Cas' lips stick together at the corner, how his lips darts out to wet them every now and then. He concentrates on his fries then, picking around on his table while Cas keeps talking. An hour passes and Dean barely speaks at all.

~~~

Eating food while Dean was quiet was…weird. It had Castiel on edge, worried that something was wrong the entire time, and finally, once their food is gone and Dean actually turns down _pie_ , Castiel clears his throat and leans forward on the table, frowning as he clasps his fingers together in front of him.

“Dean. What’s wrong?...You just turned down _pie_ , for chrissakes…,” Castiel murmurs, eyes darting toward where the waitress had disappeared to before returning to Dean’s form.

“…Are your arms hurting you today?” He asks softly, sitting up a little straighter in concern.

If he’d hurt Dean with his roughness…Castiel’s chest clenches at the thought, and he swallows down the barrage of questions he wants to ask.

~~~

The questions wakes Dean from his reverie and he blinks at Castiel in confusion.

“No,” he says eventually, brow furrowed as if what Castiel is implying was the most ridiculous thing “No, I'm...I'm fine, I'm okay, really.”

He knows what he sees in Castiel's face is concern, worry, guilt even and he wants none of it so despite his better judgement he reaches out, putting his hand over Castiel's on the table, his thumb brushing over the rough skin gently.

“Sorry, I just...I was somewhere else.”

He smiles, the most reassuring smile he can manage and then leans back in his chair, pulling back his hands as he goes.

They leave the restaurant half an hour later and Dean drops Cas off at the precinct before parking his car in front of the doctor's office. Therapy is exhausting and Dean doesn't quite know why.

The remaining four days of sick leave pass quickly. Cas shows up twice with groceries and the night before Dean has to return to work, Cas and Sam cook dinner for him. Cas still seems a bit weirded out by his partner's younger brother but after Dean had begged Sam to act like an adult around him rather than a starstruck teenager, they actually got along quite well. Dinner is amazing and thanks to Cas not as salad-heavy as usual and when Sam and Cas leave around midnight, Dean slips into bed and falls asleep instantly.

He's out of bed, showered, dressed and ready to go before 7am and decides that instead of hanging around at home he might as well get to work already. The precinct is still nearly deserted and the atmosphere reminds Dean painfully of that day... He shakes off the uncomfortable thoughts and makes his way to his office, only daring to exhale once the door falls shut behind him.

~~~

Dean had acted more than a little weird, and instead of his usual cheeky ‘come over later?’, Castiel had exited the Impala to an impersonal ‘See yah, Cas’. Castiel spends the rest of the day confused as to what the hell happened to make Dean go from red hot to ice cold, in a night.

By 8pm that night, he’s narrowed it down to one of two things.  
1) Dean was tired of Cas  
2) Dean was pissed that Cas wasn’t more into him

Castiel was pretty sure it was the latter, given that Dean _had_ asked him to stay the night, and Castiel had been so shocked he’d just stared at him, until Dean had brushed away the offer before Cas could even respond.

The next few days are kind of a torture for Castiel. He keeps having the same dream, but it seems that in his mind, Dean had permanently replaced Balthazar as the one getting shot and dying in Castiel’s arms. He wakes up feeling sick and wrong every time; he feels like he’s betraying Balthazar’s memory on the one hand, and on the other, Dean is _dying_ in his dreams. How fucked up could he get?

The morning that Dean is scheduled to be back at the precinct, Castiel arrives at 8:15 with two coffees and a dozen donuts, which he promptly sets down in front of Dean without a word. It’s obvious that Castiel went out of his way though, as 2/3rds of the donuts are Dean’s favorite kind, the rest plain cake, which were Castiel’s.

He sits down across from Dean and clears his throat, arching a brow at his partner.

“Are you ready to track this asshole down?”

~~~

Dean looks up only when Cas sits down in his chair opposite to him and pushes over the carton of donuts. He reaches for one, stuffing his mouth and simply nodding. Sometime during the next twenty minutes he decides to try and act normal, as normal as it would be possible considering the circumstances. He even steals a bite off one of Cas' donuts and grins back at him, when Cas starts protesting. By the time Andy sticks his head inside and asks if they wanna join the guys for lunch break, Dean and Cas are standing side by side behind the desk, leaning over and discussing the notes Ash had been able to save. They share a quick glance and a non-committal shrug before refusing politely. Once they're alone again Dean straightens up, bumping his shoulder against Castiel's lightly and then walks over to lock the door.

“I think we need a break,” he says, his voice low and quiet as he walks back over where Cas is still standing.

Moving to stand behind the other man his hands find the collar of his jacket to pull the piece of clothing slowly off Cas' shoulders. He lets his fingers glide over the smooth expanse of his back, clad in only a white button-down shirt and the soft hitch of Castiel's breath when Dean reaches the hem of his slacks and slips underneath is confirmation enough for the younger man.

~~~

“Dean…we shouldn’t do this,” he whispers softly, eyes darting toward the door, double checking that Dean had indeed locked it. Even with the blinds closed on the windows and the opaque glass making it impossible to see inside, Castiel didn’t feel secure in this. The thrill of it though, was quickly making itself known, and outweighing his feelings of doubt with every touch that Dean gave him.

He shudders when Dean unbuckles his belt, and stops his with a hand around his wrist.

“Dean,” Castiel begins, turning around to face his partner, a frown on his face, but he’s silenced by a desperate, hungry kiss, one that he quickly returns, melting into it with a soft moan.

“We’ll have to be quiet,” he murmurs, quickly moving to tug Dean’s shirt out of his pants, fingers fumbling in his eagerness. Castiel bites at Dean’s mouth, nipping and sucking on the man’s lower lip, groaning low when Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, when he presses a growing hard on against Castiel’s hand. Cas works Dean’s pants open, slipping a hand in to wrap around his partner’s dick, arching a brow when Dean’s mouth drops open, but no sound comes out. He smiles then, and kisses up Dean’s neck, being careful not to leave marks.

~~~

Dean lets out a small laugh at that, pressing closer, Cas' hand on his length searing, even through the thin piece of fabric separating skin from skin.

“Well, I'll try my best,” he breathes against Castiel's neck and then Cas' hand is inside his pants and the promise he just uttered is instantly forgotten.

His head falls against Castiel's shoulder as he's letting out a long breath, shuddering at the slightly cold skin against his warm dick. He can feel Cas shaking his head softly and licks up his neck, whispering “I said I'll try” in a mocking tone.

Cas picks him up then, wrapping Dean's legs around his torso as he walks them backwards until Dean feels the desk hitting the back of his knees. He lies down, shuffling papers and office supplies out of the way as he goes and then he's spread out on top of their work, pencils rolling off the desk, joining his pants and underwear on the floor. He smiles up at the other man, knowing damn right how delicious the view must be and spreading his legs, deliberately giving Cas an even better one.

~~~

Castiel’s eyes go wide at that, watching Dean deliberately spread his legs, showing off everything he had to Castiel. It sends a jolt of heat straight down his spine, and he struggles to pull his pants open the rest of the way, pull his cock out and stroke it.

“This is going to be fast,” he mutters softly, reaching over to stroke Dean as well, his hand falling from his cock to reach into Dean’s pants pocket on the floor, the angle more than a little awkward. He smirks as he stands back up, a single use packet of lube and condom in hand, eyebrow arching at Dean as he tosses both onto the desk next to the man.

“Presumptuous, Dean,” he murmurs, before leaning in and taking the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth. His fingers hurry to rip open the packet of lube, coating two fingers of one hand in the slippery fluid, before they’re pressing against Dean’s hole, sliding in after a little resistance. He groans around his mouthful, bobs his head as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside, watching Dean’s face through hooded eyes. It was insane to think that just outside that door, they had coworkers walking past, talking about cases and bad coffee, oblivious to what was going on behind the door to their office.

Castiel shudders as Dean clenches around him, and he punishes the man with a curling of his fingers, stroking up to find Dean’s prostate, wondering if Dean could manage to keep quiet when Castiel was pressing right up against it.

~~~

Which of course is absolutely and completely impossible. Dean's hands jerk up to clench over his mouth as Cas keeps stroking right over his sweet spot, fingers curling and thrusting inside of him while those sinful lips stay wrapped around his cock. His hips buck off the desk several times and Cas chastises him for it each time by thrusting in even deeper, scissoring his fingers as he pulled them out again. It doesn't take long for Dean to become all hot and bothered, his hole stretched enough so that Cas could slide inside with little to no hindrance. He spreads his legs just a little wider to let Cas step between them and rub himself against his perineum for a moment, before he finally pushes inside, more forceful but not a bit less careful than that first time. Dean closes his eyes, not because of the pain – because it does hurt, there would always be that first spark of pain flashing through his body and he craves it as much as the pleasure that would always follow suit – but because he needs to calm down, needs to stop thinking that Cas might change his mind, that this, them might be enough for him to see that it's not all about sex. Dean needs to remember that this is the deal he agreed to, that this would never be more than an exchange of pleasure.

~~~

Castiel can hardly handle putting the condom on, his body so eager to be inside of Dean. He manages somehow though, and the first slip drag of his cock inside of Dean is like heaven; the vice like heat so good he has to stop to take a breath after bottoming out. From there it’s easy, the strokes speeding up, faster and faster with each thrust of his hips. The jangling of his belt as it hangs from his pants is distracting, but no more so than Dean’s mouth, which is open on soft gasps and whimpers, and Castiel can’t stop himself when he reaches up to shove two fingers into Dean’s mouth.

“Shh, Dean,” he whispers, his own voice low and rough, and he thinks he doesn’t sound at all like himself when he’s doing this, wrapped up in Dean. The gorgeous man writhes beneath him, his body arching up with every thrust, and Castiel finds himself wanting more of this…more of them. But not like this. For once he’d like to take Dean in a bed, a bed that wasn’t scratchy from the overuse of bleach and starch, one that smelled like home, and was so comfortable they could just crash into it after they’d fucked themselves to oblivion.

He jolts himself out of his fantasy with a start, eyes widening as they stare down at Dean in shock. Castiel knew he wasn’t meant for this, for casual sex. He and Balthazar had started the same…and it had quickly changed into something more. He closes his eyes and pulls out, motioning for Dean to turn over, and Castiel pushes back home the second he does, hands shoving Dean face down over the desk, chest level with it as Castiel thrusts in again, harder now. He reaches beneath them and jerks Dean off, the action almost detached. Castiel grabs one of Dean’s hands, fingers wrapped tight around his wrist, and pulls back for leverage, just enough to pull Dean onto his cock with each thrust.

“Dean…,” he whispers, gasping softly as Dean clenches around him, “N…Now…please Dean.”

~~~

The moment Cas turns him Dean feels strange. Not being able to see him feels wrong and Dean purses his lips against the uprising indisposition. And then Cas grabs his wrist, pulls it back firmly, and a shiver runs down Dean's spine as cold white memories flash through his body, making his throat tight, leaving him gasping for air. An immaculate open space office, light falling through huge floor to ceiling windows and the sound of blood dripping onto the tiled ground. The trembling won't stop, the hand around his wrist won't let go and Dean gasps for air, wincing and thrashing about. The weight disappears as Cas stumbles backwards and Dean scrambles away from him, tripping over his own feet as he collapses on the floor, back against the wall and both of his arms slung around his legs. He's still shivering, naked and cold now and his eyes are open wide but unseeing.

~~~

Castiel has had enough flashbacks to know what’s happening the second Dean stops responding, and just thrashes like a wild animal in a cage, desperate to get away from him. He pulls out and away as quickly and carefully as possible, and lets Dean go, watching as the strong, cocky man he’d come to begrudgingly call his partner over the last 3 months becomes a shell of a person.

He carefully pulls his underwear and pants up, and then crouches down on the floor in front of Dean, trying to catch the other man’s eyes without startling him.

“Dean?...Dean, come back to me…,” Castiel soothes with his words, not moving to touch Dean, for fear of the other flipping out once more.

~~~

Castiel's voice doesn't reach him at first, a steady, pungent ringing in his ears preventing him from hearing anything else. When the fog clears and the other man's worried face appears in front of him, Dean blinks, his bone-dry throat making it hard for him to get even a single word out.

“...C-Cas..”

'Yes,' he tells himself 'it's him.' Cause this is Cas and he's safe, he's at work, in his office. He is safe. But he can't stop shaking, even as Cas picks up his trench coat from the wardrobe and drapes it carefully around Dean's shoulders. He doesn't touch him and Dean's grateful for that, couldn't...wouldn't be able to let him, as much as he wants to. He buries his face in his hands, fingers clawing at the skin of his cheeks as he tries to chase the images away, a mantra of 'you're safe, you're okay' playing over and over in his head like a broken record.

Later he doesn't remember how he pulled himself together enough to get up and dressed. He thinks Cas must've called his family but he doesn't question it when his younger sister shows up and guides him outside, while Sam first talks to Cas and then to the chief in a hushed voice. Dean bites his lip, sitting in the back seat of Sam's car, Jo by his side, not touching him but looking at him with a face full of worry and love. He hates it. He doesn't want their pity, doesn't want to be treated like he's sick or broken cause he's not. He can't bear to look at Cas, not even as the other man stands outside the car, leaning down to tell him it's gonna be okay and he's gonna take care of everything. He only dares to look into the rearview mirror as Sam steers the car on the road, watching the form of the other man getting smaller and smaller until they turn a corner and he's out of sight.

~~~

Castiel is still in shock as Dean gets driven away, having not had the opportunity to let what happened sink in, while he was too busy making sure Dean got dressed and didn’t have a nervous breakdown. Castiel sits down with the Chief and explains what happened, that he’d grabbed Dean’s wrist when Dean had gone to pick up a too hot coffee cup, and that it had triggered some kind of flashback. He can tell that neither Sam nor the Chief actually believe that’s the whole story, but thankfully they let it go.

Dean’s not in any position to argue either way.

Castiel sends his partner a quick text, before he’s called into a meeting, hoping that Dean would be able to respond and let him know that he was doing okay.

Castiel: told Chief you reached for coffee cup, grabbed your wrist to stop you from burning yourself. Not sure if he believed it. Are you doing okay? You’re cleared for rest of week. Chief wants you in more therapy.

He knows that Dean isn’t going to take it well…but figures it’s better to hear it from him, than from someone way down the line. There’s already buzzing talk about Dean’s freak out, but the voices hush any time Castiel walks into the room, and it’s not long before he can’t take it anymore, and storms out of the precinct to get some air.

 


	12. It's always a good time for cotton candy

They arrive home, Sam's home, and at the sight of his brother's serious face and Jo's gentle but determined hand on his shoulder Dean swallows down every form of protest. His siblings guide him inside and in the guest bed room, where they order him to sit down on the bed and pull off his jacket and shoes. He lets them, not in the mood let alone strong enough to stop them from doing so, and keeps staring straight ahead. He lies down by himself, lets them pull the covers over his rigid body and listens to them exit the room after letting him know that they'll be right outside. Jo stops in the doorway, taking a look back on her brother before closing the door quietly behind her.

Dean knows this is hard on them, too. They know what happened, most of it anyway, and Dean can imagine the impact this had on them. Ever since...it happened they'd done their best to act normal, cheery even but Dean is no fool and neither are they. And their little charade had worked up until now. Until they saw the consequences the abduction and torture of their eldest brother had caused, witnessed the aftermath of the post-traumatic stress Dean had been under with their own eyes. He can hear them talking under their breath in the living room, words like 'trauma' and 'horrible' and 'scared'. Dean pulls the covers over his head, hiding beneath the thin cotton veil, hoping, wishing that it would just stop.

When he leaves the room to use the bathroom, Jo's fallen asleep on the couch and Sam eyes him like he's sick, like he's carrying around a fatal disease. Dean doesn't say anything, passing his brother stoically. On his way back he picks up his phone and when he returns to his room he locks the door behind himself. Cas texted him, not five minutes after Dean had left the precinct and he can't stop the smile at the notion that Cas had thought of him, worried about him – wanted to know he was safe. He frowns at the last sentence, lowering the phone in exasperation. Therapy. More fucking therapy. Of course he'd already assumed that this would be necessary, even though he would certainly never be able to get over any of it with the way his therapist handled things. All he needs is for people to leave him alone, to stop treating him like a child and let him go back to how things were before. He hides his face in his hands and takes a deep breath before typing a reply.

Dean: i'll be fine don't worry. Sorry for u know what. And cas? you're a horrible liar 

~~~

Castiel was sitting in a little café when Dean finally texted him back, and he almost knocks over his coffee when he jerks to pick up his cell as it vibrates across the surface of the table. He flips it open and smirks to himself, before tapping out a quick reply.

Castiel: True. Most people find it refreshing. Are you siblings being overbearing?

He knew what it was like to have overbearing siblings, being the baby in the family. Gabriel, as the eldest (and yet least responsible one), lorded it over Castiel’s head that he knew what was best for him, even though he knew Castiel wasn’t going to listen. And Anna just fretted, practically nonstop. She was a bit neurotic with it, and Castiel wasn’t really looking forward to their family dinner later that same night. She’d already called him twice to ask if he was  _sure_ that he was alright with butterleaf lettuce in the salad.

Castiel hated butterleaf, but he had just told her it was fine. He had more important things on his mind, anyway. Things like Dean.

~~~

Dean had lied down and snuggled underneath the blanket once more, when he gets Cas' new text and he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head softly as he types: 'you have NO idea – wish I could get out of here, finish what we started'

He sighs, pressing 'send', rolling on his stomach and pulling the pillow over his head. He thinks he's okay, considering how he'd felt an hour or so ago but there's still a strange kind of current running through his body and he's not sure what to expect. It's terrifying, not having your body under control, not being able to tell what you were going to do or say or think or feel.

~~~

Castiel can't stop the soft chuckle that escapes him at that, but the idea of finishing what they started brings to mind the reason Dean had a flashback to begin with.  
He frowns as he sends two texts, one right after the other.  
Castiel: I'm sorry I triggered you.  
Castiel: next time you can be in control.

He gnaws on his lower lip as he waits for a reply, draining luke warm coffee and grimacing at the taste. He realizes that he's become accustomed to the coffee Dean brings him...and the thought makes him stand up abruptly, tossing his empty cup away before he storms out of the cafe, knowing he needed to keep distracted.  
He couldn't afford to dwell on thoughts of his green eyed partner

~~~

Dean stares at the second text for a long while. It says so much without really saying anything at all and it's unsettling how much it bothers him. He types several replies, deleting one after the other. By the time Jo knocks on the door to let him know dinner's ready, Dean still hasn't made up his mind. In the end he sends a short but conclusive 'i'd like that'.

Even though he got the week off, Dean doesn't get to rest too much. Ellen shows up the next day, slapping his face for not telling anybody how bad it's been and then hugging him tightly and once more Dean is at a loss of knowing how to deal with his mother. She hauls his ass to therapy and insists on waiting outside to check he's taking the full hour session. It's as useless as ever, of course and as usual Dean lies to his family about it. They have an awkward dinner with self-made pizza and beer and Dean can't convince his sister to go back to her own place, let alone trade places and let him sleep on the couch for a night.

He lies awake for a long time before getting up and sitting down in the chair by the window, staring outside at the flickering street lights, listening to the wind rustling in the trees.

The days pass excruciatingly slow; Friday comes and goes and Jo finally agrees on giving him some space – only after Sam had promised to update her about Dean's condition and welfare every hour. After that last text Dean had sent there hadn't been another reply and frankly Dean is freaking out. His therapist had attributed his nervousness to the flashbacks and the trauma but Dean knows better. Those past few days had been the worst, not being able to see Cas or talk to him, hear his voice or feel his skin under his fingertips.

It's Saturday afternoon when he eventually makes it out of the house. He's quiet, tiptoeing past Sam who's fast asleep at the kitchen table, reading glasses on and nose buried in one of his books, and the moment Dean's outside he picks up his phone and dials Cas' number.

“I need to see you,” he says right after the other man had picked up “Now.”

~~~

“Where are you?” Castiel replies quickly, setting down the paint brush that he’d been using to help Anna in repainting her kitchen. She’d chosen a sunny yellow, and while Castiel liked the color normally, after spending all morning painting, he was more than done with it for some time. He holds up a hand for silence as Dean answers his question, and then Castiel is nodding as he wipes his hands on a towel, tucking his phone between shoulder and ear to hold it up.

“Stay right there, I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t move.”

He flips the phone shut before Dean can say anything else, and looks up at Anna, who just sighs and waves him away.

“Go on…If it’s Dean, I know I won’t be able to stop you anyway,” she says with a sigh and a chuckle. Castiel chooses not to examine that, instead racing out of the house, keys in his hand so he can jump into his car and gun it on the way to where Dean had mumbled he was.

It only takes Castiel 18 minutes to get there, and he pulls up to the gas station that Dean had mentioned, tires bumping the curb as he hurries to throw the car into park. He gets out of the car in a hurry, jogging up the sidewalk to the gas station building, eyes wide with worry, his keys still in his hand.

“Dean?”

Castiel looked…nothing like his usual self. He was wearing torn jeans and a worn in t-shirt that hung open at the collar, showing off his neck and collarbone. His hair was even messier than usual, and there was yellow paint dotting it, along with smudges on his hands and forearms, even a smear along his jawline, which was clean shaven for once (Anna had insisted he looked like a homeless person, so he’d actually shaved the night before, right before dinner. She’d been pleased, and hadn’t pestered him further, to Castiel’s great relief).

He looks…young. Usually Castiel looked like he was pushing 35…36….but now his age was more apparent, and he actually looked the 31 he was, maybe even late 20s. He stops in front of Dean, coming to a slow halt just feet in front of the other man, a hand coming up to touch Dean’s cheek in a move that was far too intimate for a mere co-worker, partner or no.

~~~

Waiting for Cas is exhausting, to say the least; every pedestrian approaching the corner gas station where Dean had promised to stay until Cas got there, makes Dean jump in expectation of his brother, dragging him back to the house and locking him in his bedroom. He would go nuts if he had to spend another day in that house...

When Cas arrives a good 20 minutes later Dean pushes himself off the wall he'd been leaning against, dropping the cigarette he'd lit against the nerves to the ground and treading it out. And then Cas is in his personal space and his hand on Dean's cheek is warm and unexpected and Dean has no other choice but to lean into it, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He smiles up at the other man who's eyeing him with apparent worry and places his own hand over Castiel's.

“Let's get out of here,” he then says and manages to break away from Cas, even if it's the last thing he wants to do right now “I need some air.”

He gets into the car, waiting for Cas to do the same and only when the engine starts Dean feels like he's finally able to breathe again. Cas doesn't ask where to go and Dean is grateful for that so for almost half an hour they just drive. Dean had turned on the radio, choosing a classic rock station and leaning back in the passenger seat he'd closed his eyes, listening to the familiar sounds of Zeppelin and Bad Company.

Eventually Cas stops the car and Dean reluctantly opens his eyes and stretches his body before getting out of the car. There's the distant sound of music and cheerful voices and then Dean spots the ferris wheel and his lips curl into a smile.

“Why Cas, I never took you for the amusement park type,” he says with a teasing undertone but inside he's freaking out.

Cas took him to Santa Monica Pier. The place Dean had talked about so many times, either at work, during lunch break or when Cas was over at his place for dinner. It's one of his favorite places in California and he can't quite believe Cas remembered and actually brought him here.

'A date?,' Dean thinks and regrets it at the same moment.

This isn't a date, this is...in fact he has no idea what this is, what Cas is doing, what his intentions are. But they're here and the sky is slowly darkening at the horizon and twinkling lights appear one by one in the distance and Dean doesn't want to think about what this is because right now this is all he could want. He steps closer to the other man who hasn't yet said a word, resting his hands on his chest as he leans in to kiss him tenderly.

~~~

Castiel hadn’t really known what to do, when he’d seen how utterly exhausted Dean looked. So he just drove, and headed out of the city, out onto the Highway. He ends up in Santa Monica, not by choice, but by instinct it would seem, and before long he’s parked near the pier, a walk away from the amusement area that Dean had talked so fondly of before. Dean teases him about where he’s taken them, and Castiel flushes, but only grumbles slightly as he gets out of the car, locking it and pocketing the keys. He realizes when he looks down at Dean’s hands on his chest that he’s still wearing his paint clothes, and must look absolutely ridiculous; the thought is wiped clear from his mind when Dean kisses him though, and Castiel can only wrap his arms around the other’s waist, tugging them close together as he kisses back slowly.

Castiel pulls away before he really wants to, eyes hooded now, and stares up at Dean for a long moment.

“I just felt like cotton candy,” he murmurs, before letting go of Dean, and nodding his head toward the entrance to the pier. They walk side by side, their hands occasionally brushing each other, until Cas reaches out and wraps his hand around Dean’s, once the crowds close in. He tells himself it’s just so they won’t get separated, and it’s not like he’s intertwined their fingers; but he has a hard time denying that it feels good to hold someone’s hand again. It’s a simple thing, the warmth of someone else’s fingers around your hand, yours gripping theirs tight in return. Even the inevitable sweatiness that comes after they’ve held hands for a few minutes doesn’t bother him.

Castiel quickly looks away when he sees Dean staring at him, and clears his throat before pointing at a stand that sold the usual fairway junk food.

“You’re buying me food. I ran out without my wallet,” he says, before looking over at Dean with just his eyes, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

~~~

The moment their hands touch it's like fireworks, like the fourth of July and New Years all at once and Dean has to physically restrain himself from clasping Castiel's hand tightly or intertwining their fingers. This is huge or maybe he just wants it to mean something. Maybe this is in his imagination and Cas only held on to him not to lose him in the crowd. Still he can't hide the stupid smile that spreads on his lips and refuses to disappear, even when Castiel orders him to buy them food. Cas frowns at the display, obviously displeased that this establishment doesn't sell healthy meals and Dean ends up buying two huge slices of pizza with loads of cheese and spicy peperoni. They make their way to a small secluded area behind the huts and sit down, eating their food in a comfortable silence.

Castiel doesn't appreciate heights, Dean learns that night after he practically dragged the other man on the roller coaster and actually genuinely regretted doing so, seeing how green Cas had turned. They walk around for a bit, Cas quietly cursing under his breath and Dean apologetically patting his shoulder. It takes about half an hour for Cas to recover and look reasonably healthy. By this time Dean's arm had wrapped around the broad expanse of Castiel's back, hand curling around his shoulder possessively.

He'd tried to pinpoint it the whole night, why the other man looks so different today, but only now as they're walking side by side and Cas hesitantly puts his arm around Dean's waist, Dean sees it. The stubble is gone and while Dean absolutely loves the feeling of it on the inside of his thigh when Cas blows him, a cleanly shaven face does wonders for him. Cas never had looked old but he's practically glowing tonight and it's not at all helping. Dean averts his gaze, pretending to look at the display of goods to their left, biting his lip. After everything, he thinks, tonight had made him fall in love even more with Cas.

~~~

Castiel had felt like the entire night went by in a whirlwind of greasy food, too loud music, and his heart leaping out of his chest for more reasons than just Dean’s gorgeous smile. He warns Dean that if he ever tried to drag Castiel on another ride like that, he’d get punched, and the laugh he gets in return is beautiful. Dean throws his head back and practically cackles, and Castiel can’t help but watch in awe. He ducks his head slightly as Dean looks away, and it’s cheesy and Castiel swears internally when they both look up at the same time, twin blushes on their cheeks.

“…You want to get out of here?” He asks softly, fingers squeezing Dean’s side, his eyes tracing the other man’s features. When Dean just nods, wordlessly, Castiel knows that the other man’s mind is going the same direction his is.

They leave the pier at a leisurely pace, which is completely the opposite of what Cas wants to do, but he figures that running to his car in order to get somewhere private faster would just be too revealing of how he really felt about the situation. So he plays it cool, and drives the speed limit all the way back from Santa Monica to his apartment in LA, parking in his covered spot and sitting in silence for a moment, before turning to Dean.

“I can still take you home, if you don’t want to do this tonight, Dean,” he says softly, keeping his hands to himself despite how his fingers twitch to scrap through Dean’s short hair.

Dean huffs out a laugh, softly shaking his head and when he looks up at Castiel there's nothing but determination gleaming out of moss green orbs.

"I don't wanna go home, Cas," he says quietly and reaches over the center console, letting his hand glide up Castiel's leg slowly "Please don't take me back there..."

Castiel swallows hard at Dean’s hand on his thigh, and nods before climbing out of the car. Dean follows him up the stairs to his second story apartment, and the second that Castiel gets the door open, they’re on each other, Dean pressing Cas up against the wall while he fumbles with a hand to blindly slam the door shut. Castiel gasps into Dean’s mouth, hands hurrying to yank at Dean’s shirt, needing his partner to be naked, now, not a second later. They shuffle backwards through the living room to the couch, Castiel knowing the layout by heart, and fall down onto it with Dean straddling Castiel’s lap. They work first Dean’s and then Cas’ shirt off, fingers brushing over well-formed pecs and biceps, Castiel leaning in to suck and bite at Dean’s neck, heedless of the possible hickies he was leaving. He doesn’t care, all he knows in that moment is that his skin was boiling hot wherever Dean was touching, and he just needed _more_.

“Dean,” he gasps as Dean rubs a hand over his cock, the worn thin jeans not providing much in the way of hindrance. “Oh god…”

The chuckle that Dean lets out shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is, and Castiel shouldn’t find it mind blowing how easily they switch, how quickly Dean can take control.

“Please…Dean,” he whines softly, as Dean pins his hands over his head, kisses him deep and rocks their hips together. “Take me…take me please…”

~~~

It's something Dean has spent more than one night thinking about, fantasizing how Cas would look, stretched out and willing, his body warm and open, beckoning him, welcoming him. Still the way Cas begs him to take him, how his voice becomes small and vulnerable; it throws him off for just a second. But then their eyes meet and all that's reflecting back is need and want and Dean simply nods, letting go of Castiel's wrists to reach down and unbutton his pants. The paint-stained jeans and Dean's own pair join their shirts in a messy pile on the floor and he bends down to bring their naked chests together, marveling in the feeling of skin on skin for just a moment. Then he crawls back down, fingers gliding over the smooth expanse of Castiel's stomach, tracing the ribs alsmost incidentally on their southbound way. His lips follow the same trail, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he nibs and sucks and gently bites the soft skin. The sounds Castiel makes are addictive, leaving Dean to crave more, so much more.

Eventually he hooks his fingers in the waistband of his partner's shorts, pulling them down tantalizingly slow and watching every tiny reaction on Castiel's face. The other man is panting by now, watching Dean's every move intently, lips parted and eyes hooded, clouded with lust. Somehow they manage to get Dean's shorts off as well and the first slide of their cocks against each other is so fucking good Dean wants to cry.

“Missed you so much,” he whispers into the skin of Cas' neck, tasting the salty sweat there “Missed this...god, Cas...”

He forces himself to sit back up again, bringing their lips together once more in a kiss that's so deep and perfect, it almost makes him forget everything else. But Cas is painfully hard against his thigh and Dean could never forget those words, the way Cas subdued himself completely to him and his will.

His tongue dips into Castiel's bellybutton, caressing the skin there until Cas is squirming beneath him, practically begging for more and Dean obliges, sliding down further until his hot breath on Cas' leaking cock sends shivers up and down the other man's spine. He hovers there for just a second longer before leaning down to swallow him down, almost his whole length disappearing inside of his mouth. This of course isn't the first time they'd done this but Dean would never get enough of the sounds Castiel made when he took him in, let his tongue lap up the droplets of precome and hollowed his cheeks to suck him off. This time is different, though, and Dean feels a rush of anticipation as he pulls off to coat the fingers of his right hand with saliva only to guides them around Cas' body, one finger gently prodding at Cas' twitching hole.

~~~

Castiel quickly goes from whining and soft pleading to demanding, gasping out Dean’s name as Dean swallows him down, toys with his ass. He shudders at every swirl of Dean’s tongue around the head of his cock, gasps when Dean brushes the finger more firmly again him below.

“Fuck-…Come on Dean,” he growls, every ounce of patience having been licked away by Dean’s talented tongue. He’d tried to be demure and patient, let Dean have every bit of control, but it just wasn’t who Castiel was. He reaches down and runs a hand through Dean’s hair, then realizes that the touch might be unwelcomed, so yanks his hand back, tucking it back up behind his head with the other one, where Dean had shoved them both only moments before. His hips buck though, up toward Dean’s mouth, the plush lips so inviting every time they pull away from him.

“Feel so good,” he sighs, eyes slipping shut as his head falls back on a groan. He wanted more, and he wanted it now. He’d been having daydreams and fantasies about this for a while, probably a lot longer than he would ever tell Dean, as the first time he’d thought about Dean fucking him, they weren’t even doing this. It had been the night of the drunken bar kiss, and Dean’s lips had never even touched his, but Cas had thought about Dean pushing him into the bar’s bathroom, and fucking him up against the stall, noisy and rough. God how he wanted that.

“C’mon…please, Dean, I..I can’t,” he struggles to hang on to his control, to not take over and just _ride_ Dean the way he wants so fucking badly to. “Need you in me,” he growls instead, thrusting his hips down toward Dean’s finger.

This was dangerous, getting involved, so head over heels entangled with someone like this. He’d been burnt once before, lost the man his world had practically revolved around, his partner, his friend, his lover. Dean’s eyes are so bright in the moonlight, they almost glow, and Castiel’s breath hitches in his chest, as he thinks that he was doing it all over again.

Partner. Friend. Lover.

_Danger…Danger…_  echoes in his head, but before he can open his mouth voice a protest, to stop what they were doing, Dean is taking him in again, pushing a spit slick finger inside of him, and Castiel screams out his pleasure.

~~~

He knows, or assumes at least, this isn't what Cas is used to, giving up control like this and it makes him even more grateful to Cas for doing this, doing it for him. So when the other man is reduced to heavy breathing and steadily louder moans for 'more' and 'please, Dean' he finally has mercy on him. His retreat is not appreciated and he laughs softly at the unhappy noise Cas makes at the loss of his fingers, three by now.

“Lube,” he murmurs against Cas' lips, catching them in a gentle kiss “Condoms...”

He knows he should've asked for the lube sooner, realizes that he might've caused Cas unnecessary discomfort but it's too late now and Cas doesn't look like he would have been too keen on prolonging the start of their make-out session any longer, anyway.

“Bathroom,” Cas sighs and Dean rolls off him with the promise of 'Be right back' to fetch a condom and a small tube of lubricant from a cupboard in the bathroom.

Cas is still where he'd left him, watching his every move as Dean makes his way back to the couch and kneels down in between the V of Cas' legs. They share a long look and suddenly Dean doesn't feel as confident as he'd felt before. Dropping the things he'd just gotten he leans down to cup Cas' face with his hands, tenderly kissing the corners of his mouth.

“Cas,” he whispers as if it's all he needed to say, as if it's enough for Cas to understand what's going on inside of him “Cas, are you sure?”

~~~

“Do it, Dean,” Cas hisses, spreading his legs a little wider, tilting his hips so his ass was even more on display. He was on edge, so beyond ready to be taken; he’d missed the ache and burn inside him, had forgotten how good it was. He needed this, needed to feel Dean fill him up, stretch all the way to the bottom.

He sits up to kiss Dean harder, reaching over to grab a condom and rip it open blindly, fingers fumbling just a bit before he has it the right way, and is sliding it over Dean’s cock. Cas smiles into the kiss as Dean groans, and he strokes him, slow and firm, reaching for the lube with his other hand. He squirts some of it into Dean’s hand, and the rest onto his own, reaching out to stroke Dean’s cock while he waits for Dean to use his now slicked up fingers on Castiel’s partially stretched hole- he doesn’t have long to wait.

Cas gasps as Dean shoves two back inside him, groaning and smiling up at Dean.

“Yeah,” he breathes, hand gripping Dean harder. He wanted Dean in him _now_ , but knew that he couldn’t push. Castiel clings to the edges of his patience like a wild thing, all claws and groaning, thrusting up against Dean’s fingers. It seemed there were two sides to Castiel, stoic calm or raging passion. There was no in-between, and Dean had wedged himself in the latter half of Castiel’s life, like a burr, itching and constantly tickling until it got attention. Castiel lets out a yelp of pleasure when Dean’s fingers hit the spot inside him that literally made him see starbursts, white light fizzling out in a black world for a second, and he’s done waiting.

“Dean. Get inside me. _Now_.”

~~~

And Dean does. Despite his concerns, despite the worry that he would somehow not be enough or too much or just wrong Dean does as Cas asks. He pulls out his fingers unceremoniously, grabbing his legs firmly to pull Cas closer to him, his ass resting on the top of Dean's legs. And then he's pressing up against his hole, nails digging into the flesh of Castiel's thighs as he sinks inside, inch by inch, slowly, as careful as possible, not daring to avert his gaze from Cas' face for just a second. He wants to see him, to experience every tiny detail but also wants to know the second it hurts; he could never hurt him. But Cas is grabbing his hip, pulling him in, teeth clenched and brow furrowed in exertion and then Dean bottoms out and he's surrounded by tight warm heat and it's absolutely breathtakingly perfect.

He stays still like this for a moment, breathing heavily, one of his hands letting go of Cas' waist to reach up and caress the sweat-slick skin of his cheek.

“Cas, god Cas,” he says and his voice is high-pitched and barely recognizable but there's so much awe and wonder in it and he knows Cas can hear it, too.

~~~

Castiel’s voice trembles when he speaks, and it’s low and soft and needy, his arms wrapping around Dean’s shoulders to claw at his back.

“Fuck me Dean, god…I need it,” he whispers, arching his hips up in an attempt to prove just how much he does, indeed, need it. Castiel wanted it hard, and fast. He wanted to come furiously, with lightening behind his eyelids and sparks riding his spine like a freight train. He just needed to let go of everything for a minute, the worries about getting in too deep with Dean, about the nightmares and the flashbacks they were both having. About Balthazar, and how much he felt like this was wrong, to be with someone so soon after losing someone who had been the love of his life.

He needs to be free of it all, for just a moment, and Castiel knows that he can find that freedom in Dean’s arms, if he tries hard enough.

“Dean!”

~~~

The first thrust is delicious, all slow slick slide of skin, his cock sliding out almost completely just to push back in deep. And Cas is falling apart underneath, his body thrashing on the couch as Dean starts a slow and steady rhythm that quickly transforms in sharp thrusts. Once he finds the spot that makes Cas go absolutely crazy he doesn't let go of it, hitting it with each pounding thrust and making Cas cry out, literally scream with pleasure. He almost loses track of everything as he's looking down at the other man, the way he seems to be gone entirely, lost in a blissful dream. Affection creeps its way through the lust clouded haze, fills him up and makes it hard for him to breathe. Time passes without either of them taking notice of it; Dean can feel Cas clench around him with every thrust now and he knows that he's close, they both are. He leans down once again, capturing his partner's lips in a desperate kiss, as the words he knows he can never say escape nevertheless.

“I love you, Castiel.”

~~~

Dean’s thrusts are perfect, and Castiel had never thought, not in a million years, that sex could be this flawless. There isn’t a thrust that doesn’t hit the right spot, nor a grip that’s too tight or too loose. It’s almost as if Dean has a tap into Castiel’s mind, and he’s using it to fuck him just right, every growl from the other man lighting Castiel’s pleasure centers up like a god damn Christmas tree. He sobs it out, crying and screaming as Dean rams into him, the slap of skin of slick skin obscene, and Castiel can hear his neighbors banging on the wall, but he can’t give a shit, not in that moment.

Dean leans down and kisses him, and the grinding force of his stomach rolls against Castiel’s cock so right he keens, leaning up to kiss Dean back, grip the cushions of the couch behind his head even tighter, the muscles on his arms standing out, tight and trembling.

And then Dean speaks. And the words hit Castiel like a sledgehammer, knocking him tumbling over the edge. He screams Dean’s name, can’t stop himself, can’t even try, and arches up, and comes so hard he loses himself for a moment.

When he comes back Dean’s come inside him, shuddering and shaking on top of him, and the reality of what just happened dawns. The world gets terrifyingly quiet in the after math of Dean’s confession, and Castiel can’t do anything but struggle to breathe, and stare up at the man on top of him.

~~~

There's a flash of something on Castiel's face, something Dean doesn't dare to think about and then Cas is coming and he's writhing beneath him, his whole body twitching and jerking in the most beautiful orgasm Dean has ever witnessed. He follows quickly then, unable to control himself any longer, spilling into the condom and almost collapsing on top of the other man. And then there's only their mingled breaths, the sound of gasping inhales and nothing else and the silence is deafening. Dean pulls out of Cas carefully and gets up on shaky legs, removing the condom and dropping it into a garbage can near the kitchen door. Castiel still hasn't said a word and he keeps staring at Dean like the younger man had never seen somebody look at him before. He walks back over to the couch and sinks down on it, kneeling where he'd been fucking into the other man only minutes ago. He reaches out slowly to stroke Castiel's cheek but it feels off, the way Cas flinches and continues to look at him in what can only be shock.

“Say something, please,” Dean begs and his lips are trembling as he feels pure and utter fear consume him.

~~~

Castiel is in shock. He knows it, logically, but he still can’t push it away.

The last person to say I love you to him was Balthazar.

That realization makes him feel absolutely wrong, inside out, like everything that he’s been doing with Dean is a betrayal to Balthazar, to the memory of the man he’d been with for _years_. The man he’d failed.

He swallows and looks away when Dean speaks, eyebrows twitching as if they can’t decide what to do for a second, before they furrow to the middle of his forehead and down, and Castiel shuts his eyes as he sighs heavily.

“Dean,” he starts, and then stops to open his eyes and look into Dean’s own, trying his hardest to ignore how his chest tightens at the look of fear on Dean’s face. This wasn’t about Dean and him…there was no Dean and him.

“…I told you what this was. I _told_ you when we started,” he says, emphasizing the word softly, leaning forward slightly toward Dean as he says it, his voice going soft.

“…that this would never be more than sex. That it couldn’t be.”

He stands up slowly at that, and takes a step away, bending down to pick up his underwear and pull them on, stifling the hiss at the twinge in his well fucked ass when he does. Castiel turns around once he’d pulled the underwear up, feeling much less naked, armored, even if it was just a piece of cloth. He crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his jaw, staring down at Dean for a second. Castiel can’t hold it though, and drops his arms to his sides, lips pressed thin together before he starts speaking again.

“Dean…I thought you understood…”

~~~

It's as if each of Castiel's words hits him with an unspeakable force, a relentlessness that punches the breath out of his lungs and makes him feel utterly miserable, pathetic, worthless. Cas stands up and Dean can't even reach out to hold him back, can't move for a full minute. And suddenly there's a gush of words, accusations and demands for explanations all coming out without any filter, without Dean thinking about any of them.

“This isn't just sex, Cas, you can't tell me this is all this is to you. I've seen you look at me, you know it's true. You came for me, you saved me and you took care of me. You care about me, Cas, you care about me and you're scared and you won't let yourself be happy again and I get it, I do. I've had my fair share of self-hatred, trust me, but it's wrong Cas. You don't deserve this, you-”

He breaks off, taking a deep breath and getting up as well, grabbing Castiel's wrist and pulling him backwards, turning him to meet his gaze but Cas won't look at him so Dean continues anyway, his voice full of desperation and love.

“It's not your fault Balthazar died, it's nobody's fault. _Cas_...Cas please, we could be happy together, please...don't tell me it's all been a lie...”

~~~

Castiel snatches his wrist from Dean’s hand, the skin burning where Dean had been touching, too warm. His breath catches in his throat at the look on Dean’s face, and there’s a flicker of a moment where he wants to return that look, to give in to Dean’s demands and just let go of it all, everything he’s holding inside.

The moment passes, and all Castiel is left with is yet another layer of self-loathing. He shuts his eyes and takes a steadying breath, before he looks at Dean again, and this time he’s completely stoic, his voice nearly monotone, his eyes dispassionate.

“I knew this shouldn’t have happened,” he says calmly, before he stoops to grab his shirt, pulling it on in efficient movements. “…you don’t really love me Dean. You can’t. That wasn’t part of the deal,” he moves away, toward the kitchen for a glass of water, as if everything about this exchange was normal, and not utterly heart wrenching.

Turning his back on Dean hurts, and Castiel’s chest aches as if there’s a weight, pressing on him, and it’s hard to breath as he pours himself the water, and takes a long gulp of it. He returns to the living room and offers the glass to Dean, arching an eyebrow at him.

~~~

Dean is dumbstruck. His eyes follow Castiel, the look on his face nothing but incomprehension, despair – and fury. When Cas holds the glass out for him to take, Dean reaches out to knock it out of his hand. The sound of glass breaking almost feels good, gratifying even but Dean can't bring himself to care. His eyes are fixed on Castiel; Castiel who calmly returns his gaze, Castiel who looks only slightly displeased at all this, Castiel who trampled his feelings without giving a single fuck.

“ _FUCK_ you,” Dean grates out, his voice strained, full of disappointment and righteous anger “Fuck the deal and fuck you!”

He bends down then to pick up his clothes, bolting through the living room and only stopping in the door frame to look back at the other man.

“I know what I'm feeling and I know you don't wanna hear it but _I love you_. And I won't stop loving you, I can't, you can't make me, Castiel.”

His voice is trembling again and Dean's not sure if it's blinding rage or profound misery and it doesn't matter anyway, because all Cas does is stare at him, not even moving a muscle to soothe or stop him.

The door falls shut behind him and Dean is alone in the faintly lit corridor of Castiel's apartment building, bar naked, his hand curled around the bundle of his clothes and he waits. A minute. Five minutes. But nothing happens. Cas doesn't come. Twenty minutes later Dean leaves the building, pulling his jacket tightly around his shoulders, as he catches a cab back to Sam's place. His whole family is there, of course, and his brother is particularly furious, having been worried sick about his whereabouts all day. The minute he sees Dean though Sam falls silent and neither of them dares to speak to him again that night. So Dean sinks into his bed, his cold and empty bed, wrapping his arms around himself and pressing his eyes shut, whispering, praying that this isn't happening, that this is just a dream. That Castiel would choose him.

~~~

Castiel isn’t all that surprised when Dean reacts violently. He had known, somewhere inside, that Dean was going to explode at him. And he lets it happen, remaining passive and stone faced on the outside, while he’s climbing the walls behind his expressionless face. Dean leaves in a fury filled storm, slamming the door behind him, and Castiel finds himself lurching after him- only he stops, a second before he opens the door. Something makes him pause, and he can’t pinpoint what it is, his self-preservation or self-loathing, but he doesn’t go after Dean. He stands on the other side of the door with his forehead pressed to the wood, and listens to Dean cry as he feels something inside of him crumbling to pieces.

He waits until he hears rustling, and footsteps walking away, before he cracks the door open, and watches Dean go. Castiel realizes that Dean has no way to get to his apartment from here, after all, Cas had picked him up; he throws on his jeans and chases after Dean, knowing that regardless of the pain they were both feeling, he couldn’t let Dean just walk home from here.

What he sees when he bursts out of the apartment door though is Dean climbing into a cab, and giving the driver directions, without looking back. It sends a jolt of something sick through Castiel that he wishes Dean had, and yet is also grateful that the man hadn’t.

This was good. For both of them. On Monday he’d go in and speak with the Chief about switching partners, and removing Dean from the case. They’d go their separate ways, and Dean would move on with his life, and forget Castiel.

And Cas would never have to worry about losing him. Because Dean wasn’t his, no matter how badly parts of him were shrieking that he should be.

Castiel goes to bed that night, and for the first time since Balthazar died, imagines someone else lying beside him, imagines Dean there. It sickens him how much he wants that, because he doesn't deserve to have a second chance at happiness, not after failing so horribly at his first one.

He falls asleep with his face buried in Balthazar's pillow, sobbing once he realizes that it no longer smells like the other man.


	13. Breaking up is hard to do (especially when your boss won't let you)

The weekend is a blur and frankly Dean wouldn't even know what day it is if it wasn't for Ellen. She knocks at his door quietly in the morning, carrying a tray with breakfast and today's paper inside and setting it down on his nightstand. She doesn't talk much for a while, only pouring him coffee and piling up some scrambled eggs and bacon. In the end its Dean who breaks the silence by taking her hand to stop her from working and shaking his head softly.

“I'm not a kid anymore, mom. I can make my own sandwiches, you know?”

He's surprised when this doesn't earn him a slap, Ellen isn't the kind of person who likes people talking back at her. Instead she puts down the fork and spoon and watches him pensively.

“What the hell's going on with you, baby? And remember, I'm your mother, so don't try to bullshit me.”

Dean can't hide the small smile that creeps onto his lips at that, hearing Ellen talk like this, like he's used to hear her lecturing her children, her husband, practically everyone she cared about and/or had a disagreement with. So he sighs and purses his lips and then he talks. He can't quite figure out how to stop so he tells her everything. How he'd known Cas was special the very first time he laid eyes on him, how he thought it would be fun to toy a bit with him and that he realizes that had been selfish and cruel. He tells her about Balthazar and how everything he did, everything he said and everything he was would always be compared to him, how he would never be able to be anything like him or even remotely important to Castiel. He falls silent for a while, before he can pluck up the courage to talk about their arrangement, the deal Dean had known from the start to be doomed. How he'd realized his feelings for the other man and how Cas had reacted.

Ellen listens quietly the whole time – probably another first for her – and reaches out to brush her hand over Dean's arm by the end. She takes a few deep breaths and then pats his hand gently.

“Sweetheart, you got yourself into deep shit,” she says and Dean huffs out a bitter laugh “I can only imagine how you feel......but I don't know what to tell you, Dean. He made his intentions quite clear, didn't he? You should have talked to me, honey, you should have let us help you. Maybe if you wouldn't have let him into his life as much as you did...maybe you wouldn't have gotten hurt...”

He knows she means well, knows she's only trying to take care of her heartbroken son. But every single word Ellen says is like knives cutting into his chest, slicing his lungs and making it even harder to breathe. He holds up a hand to stop her eventually, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up.

“It doesn't matter, Ma, it wouldn't have mattered. Even if we'd never become partners, even if we'd worked at different precincts – I would have known it the moment I saw him. He's special, Mom, and I know he cares about me, too. He's just too...too goddamn broken and sad and he's got nobody to take care of him the way he needs it - I just can't give up on him, not now.”

Ellen stays silent and Dean grabs some clothes and leaves the room, walking past Sam with a 'morning' and 'later' as he exits the apartment. He needs a walk, get his thoughts sorted – think of a way to Castiel's heart...

Monday morning comes and Dean makes his way past countless curious eyes, shutting the door to the office with a sigh of relief. He puts down his satchel and opens his jacket, before leaning against the edge of the desk, eyes on the door, waiting for his partner to arrive. He didn't turn on the lights so when Cas walks in about ten minutes later, Dean's presence seems to startle him for a moment.

“Morning,” Dean says; he can see Cas regain his composure, his shoulders sagging down slightly before he walks around the desk and sits down on his chair in silence.

Dean turns as well, one of his hands on the desk as he tries to catch Castiel's gaze before speaking again.

“I think its best we get this over with.”

Cas doesn't say anything, just continues looking at him with barely perceptible confusion on his features.

“I'm going to ask for a transfer. The sooner the better. You'll have your stuffy office all to yourself again...and you won't have to deal with me anymore-”

He pauses, clearing his throat as he can feel frustration and sorrow welling up again.

“It's what you want, isn't it?”

~~~

Castiel wasn’t expecting Dean to be standing in their office when he got in on Monday morning. He was expecting Dean to have run for the hills; but honestly, thinking about it again, it’s not as big a surprise as he originally thought. Dean was just as much a stubborn son of a bitch as he was, more so, at times. Of course he’d dig his heels in and fight for what he wanted.

And then Dean speaks, and those thoughts are blown to pieces, and Castiel can’t breathe for a moment. Even though he had been planning on going to the Chief to ask for Dean to be transferred to another case, another partner, he’d never expected Dean to agree to it, which leads him to the realization that he’d both been expecting Dean to run away from him, and to stay and fight. He shuts his eyes and scrubs a hand over his now stubbled face, before nodding and sighing.

“I think it’s for the best,” he lies, and shrugs off his coat before adjusting his tie as he leads the way out of the office he’d come to think of as ‘theirs’. The Chief was in already, on a phone call, so Dean and Castiel wait outside until he waves them in as he sets the handset down.

“What do you too want so goddamn early on a Monday morning? If this isn’t a break in the case and you’ve got Azazel trussed up outside, I don’t know that I want to hear it!” Rufus barks at them, and Castiel stands up a bit straighter, before clearing his throat.

“We’ve come to the decision that it would be best if you transferred D-..Winchester, to another case, and another partner.”

It hurts to even say it, to put the words out there in the universe, out loud, that they would be done with one another. Castiel swallows down his nervousness, the sick roiling feeling in his stomach, and waits for the Chief’s answer.

He doesn’t have long to wait. The man glares at them both through squinted eyes, hands steepled in front of him, dark eyes flicking from one Detective to the other for a moment, before he finally speaks.

“No.”

Castiel is stunned, his eyes flaring wide, mouth gaping open.

_“What?”_

“I said _NO_ , Novak. N. O. What about that word is hard to understand?” The Chief says slowly, arching a brow at his Senior Detective as if the man had a screw loose. Castiel is flustered, and gapes for a second, before he sputters out,

“But, Sir-“

“No BUTS, Novak! You and Winchester are working remarkably well together. Or you had been, the last I saw you, which was Friday. So unless something’s happened over the last two days that makes it impossible for you two to work together- and nothing better have happened Novak, or _so help me god_  I will have you ass suspended before you can say ‘inter office romance’-  you better just suck up your differences and get the fuck along again. Now. Get the fuck out of my office and go catch the sonofabitch you were _BOTH_  assigned to.”

“…Yes Sir.”

Castiel leads the way out of the office, shell shocked as he walks back to the small room where papers were still strewn about from Friday. He realizes that Dean was better at organizing than he was, and somehow, over the course of the last few months, he’d come to depend on the other man picking up the pieces he’d forget, or leave behind. His chest clenches as he sits down in the chair behind the desk, hand coming up to cover his mouth, to stop himself from speaking what he so desperately wanted to –and couldn’t- say.

~~~

It's no surprise really. Come to think of it they both should've expected the Chief to react like this. Still it seems to come as a shock to Castiel and for a moment Dean doesn't know whether or not to follow him. Goddammit why does everything have to be this fucking complicated? He stays behind for a word with Rufus, and even though the man glares at him like he wants him to dissolve right then and there, he gets his way. Fifteen minutes later two of the guys help Dean carry a dusty desk from a storage room into his and Cas' office. He doesn't look at the other man until the door closes and they're alone again and even then he avoids it.

“Might as well get my own desk,” he mumbles and pushes some of the boxes labeled 'evidence' out of the way.

He doesn't give Cas a chance to disagree and simply starts tidying up, picking up pieces of paper and office supplies, putting them back into the boxes and reorganizing them on the two desks. The silence is awkward and Dean is just clueless, absolutely helpless what to do, how to act. Every fiber of his body screamed for the other man, begged to be able to touch him, hold him, tell him that he's loved over and over again. But Dean had tried that; he'd done his best to convince Cas that he deserved to have a life, that he deserved to be happy again but it hadn't worked. And Dean doesn't feel strong enough to start this conversation, this discussion again that soon. So he cleans up.

He leaves for lunch with Andy and Ash, not even looking back or bothering to ask Castiel if he wants to tag along. The others notice, of course. It's painfully obvious something’s wrong. Nobody says a word though and Dean is grateful for that. Despite what he'd said to his mother, he isn't sure if he can do this. Keep working side by side with this infuriatingly beautiful man that stole his heart and refused to give his back in return.

~~~

Dean getting his own desk was probably a good move, but Castiel doesn’t say anything, just merely nods and gets out of the other man’s way. He sits down and focuses on the work, because when his nose was buried in detailed accounts of how many people Azazel was shipping into the US every year, and how many of those people ended up dead, on the street…well, it was a lot easier to ignore how good Dean smelled in the small room.

When Dean goes to lunch without him, Castiel realizes that Dean is actually sticking to his guns, and giving him some space. Which is exactly what he asked for. Castiel just couldn’t figure out why it felt so bad to have Dean give him the space he knew he needed.

After lunch he leaves a scrawled note for Dean, telling him that he was going on a routine check of the hangouts they knew Azazel and his crew to frequent, and that he’d be back in an hour. Sadly, that’s exactly what happens. No one was there when he drove by, the vacant houses and buildings remaining as such. It seemed that their eliminating of Alistair had driven Azazel underground, even more than usual.

He gets back to the precinct a little after 3pm, and comes back into the office, only to find it practically pristine. Castiel arches a brow, but again, says nothing, as he hangs up his coat and then takes a wide birth around Dean’s chair to his own desk, sitting back down with a soft sigh. It was surprisingly exhausting being this internally conflicted, and both hating someone’s presence, and wishing they were so much closer, all at the same time.

~~~

A week passes like this and it's excruciatingly painful. Cas remains distant and Dean, deeply hurt and so very unsure of how to deal with this new situation, does the same. Their days are filled with mostly paperwork, reconstructing the files they'd lost after Meg Masters had been revealed as a mole. For the first time in his life Dean hates going to work. He feels useless, irrelevant, like an empty shell. He'd always wanted to become a police officer, ever since watching 'Lethal Weapon' and he never regretted his choice. His job had always been the one thing that he could bet on, the only thing he knew without a doubt that he was good at.

Working with Cas is strenuous, impossible almost; they don't talk much these days apart from 'morning' and 'more coffee?' their conversations are limited to monosyllabic exchanges about past events and possible links they might have overseen. Despite everything Dean can't hide his affections completely. More often than not he would look up from his work, his eyes finding Castiel's slumped form across the room and he stares. Until Cas would notice and look up at him and Dean would avert his gaze quickly. As if he could fool anyone, let alone Cas...

And then there are times when Cas would look back at him and he would be unable to turn away. And Cas would open his mouth to say his name and Dean would forget to breathe for a moment – it's never what he wants to hear, of course. Minor phrases like 'you got anything?' or 'hand me the stapler' and Dean feels like a small part of him dies every single time.

Two weeks after Dean had told his partner that he loved him, Chief Turner orders them to his office for an update. Dean enters first only to find another man is already there with Rufus, leaning against the far wall of the room and watching the two men attentively. Dean and Cas exchange a quick look before sitting down reluctantly, as the other man closes the door behind them.

“Novak, Winchester – this is Detective Webster from Sacramento PD.”

Dean turns in his chair to have a look at the other man and finds him watching himself with blatant interest. The guy is tall and lean, his dark hair a little longer at the sides and a single strand curls just above his right ear. He's impeccably well-dressed, the dark grey suit and plain white shirt looking expensive. He's also nibbling at a toothpick sort of absentmindedly and Dean can't help but raise a brow at the other man's obvious poise. Finally Detective Webster pushes himself off the wall and walks over to where Dean and Cas are sitting, extending a hand to Cas first while his eyes never leave Dean's.

“Please, call me Patrick,” he says, taking his hand and Dean can't help a pleasant shiver from running down his spine at the sound of his accent; Scottish? British? He can't quite tell but it's to die for!

The chief clears his throat then and leans back in his chair, waiting for the three man to return their attention to him before speaking again.

“I'll spare you the introduction and cut right to the chase: There's a human trafficking ring south of Sacramento and Detective Webster thinks it might connect to Azazel. I want you guys to exchange all the information you gathered and work together as closely as possible. We gotta make progress soon if we wanna catch this bastard.”

Neither of them says a word until they're outside and the door's closed again. Patrick walks a few steps and turns to look at the two men expectantly.

“Shall we discuss everything over lunch?”

~~~

Castiel follows along behind Patrick and Dean, as the other two seem to hit it off from the second that Dean suggests cheeseburgers and pie, and Patrick’s eyes light up as he says “As long as it’s apple, I’m in.”

Castiel hates him.

He rides in the backseat of Patrick’s unmarked car, ignoring the less than subtle flirtation that was going on in the front seat between his partner and the new Detective; they were bantering back and forth about cars, something that Castiel had never known much about. He couldn’t follow the talk, and he wasn’t sure what he was more pissed about, that there was something that he and Dean didn’t share that Patrick and Dean did...or that he was mad in the first place.

Castiel knew he had absolutely no right to be jealous, or mad, in any way. Dean had poured his heart out, and Castiel had shut him down in a manner that wasn’t exactly kind. So he ignores their chatter as best he can from two feet away, relegated to the back seat like a child, even though of the three men in the car, he was the senior Detective.

When Patrick looks up in the rear view mirror and smiles at him, Castiel nods politely, before looking out the window once more.

Castiel _really_ hated him.

They get to the hole in the way grease pit that was Dean’s favorite, and from the way Patrick was lighting up, was sure to be Patrick’s favorite soon as well, and seat themselves toward the back in a booth. Castiel is surprised when Dean sits down next to him, instead of Patrick, but he soon realizes it’s only so Dean and Patrick can talk to each other easier. His heart sinks in his chest and he frowns down at the menu when the waitress brings it, glaring at the text that described the pictures of normally appetizing food.  
He didn’t want anything right now though, not when he was listening to Dean laugh, and it was someone else who was making him laugh. He could see Dean smiling, broad and wide, out of the corner of his eyes, and it’s with a heavy heart that Castiel realizes that he hasn’t seen that smile in over two weeks.

Castiel is quiet while Dean and Patrick talk, and when the waitress comes back he orders an iced tea and a chicken sandwich, ignoring Patrick when the man jokingly ribs him for getting a ‘sissy meal’.

“C’mon Novak...that’s not a man’s meal...what, are you on a diet?” Patrick says with a grin, and Castiel flushes when Dean snorts back a laugh before rattling off his order to the waitress. Patrick grins at Dean, and then with a smooth line of ‘I’ll have what he’s having’, he hands the menu to the waiting woman, who saunters off down the aisle to the kitchen. When Patrick doesn’t check out the retreating girl’s ass, Castiel realizes that the flirtation that was going on between the two other men at the table could possibly be more than colleagues getting to know one another...and his heart sinks even further than he thought was possibly, landing somewhere on the floor to get stepped upon later, he was sure.

The worse part of it all was that he’d done it to himself- and where before, he could have been sure that Dean was just politely bantering with Patrick, because that was just part of who Dean was- now though? Now Castiel had the sneaking suspicion that this was part revenge, and part Dean moving on from him. And he has to get up and go to the bathroom to take a few deep breaths when his chest _aches_ at that thought. Dean doesn’t come to see if he’s alright, despite his hasty retreat, and Castiel wonders absently if he could spend the entire lunch hour in there, without Dean noticing...or caring. That brings a frown to his face, and he’s able to go back to the table once more, and sit there with Patrick and Dean all laughter and smiles without feeling much of anything but annoyance.  
At least on the surface.


	14. The way to a man's heart is James Dean

Patrick is amazing. It’s not only how he seems to know every tiny detail about the crimes in the Sacramento area off the top of his head or the way he seems so sure of catching the bad guys. He’s funny and charming and he enjoys his burger with his eyes closed and a long pleasant sigh and Dean can’t help but smile watching him and listening to him. From time to time he’s remembered of Cas still sitting there, in the booth right next to him but he seems somewhere far away and Dean doesn’t know what to think of that. He disappears to the restroom several times, even though he barely touched his drink and Dean wonders what that’s about. But then Patrick steals some fries off his plate and Dean is too busy laughing and retaliating to think more about Castiel and his strange behavior. They end up sharing a huge slice of apple pie and when Patrick insists on getting their checks, for the first time in weeks Dean feels good, content. His guilty conscience regarding Castiel and how he hasn’t said a word in the last hour at least rebels only once or twice on their drive back to the precinct and Dean can almost ignore it. He watches the other man get out of the car and hurry inside without bothering to look back and Dean frowns, turning to Patrick with a small sigh.

“Sorry about him, he’s usually not like that…”

But Patrick just shrugs his shoulders and pulls a pack of smokes out of the inner pocket of his jacket. He offers one to Dean who takes it gratefully and waits for Patrick to light it before inhaling deeply.

“I don’t blame him,” he then says slowly, his eyes gliding over Dean’s body and he feels himself growing hot “If I had a partner like you I’d be jealous and protective, too,” Patrick says and Dean’s eyes widen as he accidentally swallows a pall of smoke.

He bends over and coughs for a good thirty seconds before looking back up at Patrick; Patrick who watches him with a cocked brow and a small but knowing smile on his lips. And damn, Dean just can’t help smiling back, despite the tears in his eyes and the raspy feeling in his throat.

“Jealous, huh?” he says and Patrick nods, blowing tiny rings of smoke into the warm afternoon air “Well even if he was, he’s got no right to be jealous. It’s not like we’re married.”

“So…you’re single?”

The smile on Patrick’s lips is still small but so damn hopeful that Dean just can’t let him dangle any longer.

“What do you say, we get together some other time? You can buy me dinner and I’ll answer your question…”

Five minutes later Dean enters the precinct, stuffing his phone back into his pocket, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

‘Friday night, 8pm – the rest is a surprise,’ Patrick had said as he’d typed his number into Dean’s phone and the roguish wink he’d given him had made Dean almost trembling with excitement.

Castiel is already absorbed into work and doesn’t even look up as Dean closes the door behind him, saunters over to his own desk and flops down on his chair noisily. He doesn’t get too much done that afternoon; Patrick had left them files of similar cases and Dean can’t quite rule out that they’re linked to Azazel’s organization but he’s also not 100 % sure they are… His cell buzzes around five and Dean’s face lights up at the text Patrick had sent him.

Patrick: ‘I was going to ask you to wear something nice until I realized you must look pretty amazing in just about everything. Can’t wait to see you again. -P’

Dean stays at the office until everyone, including Cas, is gone and when he goes home eventually he feels lightheaded, relaxed and warm.

The next few days pass without any incidents; Castiel is still distant, maybe even more than before, and despite the occasional painful stab Dean is more and more okay with it. Patrick’s texts help a lot. He only sends two but Dean reads them over and over again, the kind words never failing to brighten up his day.

The thing is: he’s not used to be wooed, not anymore at least. Sure, there were always people eyeing him with interest, whether it was at a bar or in the dairy aisle at the supermarket. And Dean enjoys the attention but it’s nothing serious, nothing real. Patrick is different. The way he opened the car door for him or let him choose what to order…it’s the little things but they make Dean ridiculously happy. Patrick is kind, he’s generous and polite and for the first time in a long time Dean doesn’t feel tolerated; he feels cherished.

He’s not so sure how to feel about Cas anymore, though. The other man barely looks at him and when he does his eyes gleam with something Dean just can’t read. At lunch when asked about his plans for the weekend, Dean mentions his date and the guys literally attack him with questions and not so subtle hints of what they expected him to achieve. Castiel doesn’t say anything but Dean thinks he might see his face darken with something that might be disappointment.

Dean’s breath still hitches when he thinks of what they’d shared, how Cas had held him, touched him, kissed him. He misses being with him, talking to him like they used to. And then his mind wanders back to that night, the time they’d spent at the pier, how Cas had taken his hand and how later he’d leaned close to beg Dean to take him. Saying that he was over Cas would be a lie and Dean hates himself for not being able to forget, to move on.

Still, when Friday comes and Cas enters the office once more without getting Dean a cup of coffee as well, he decides not to let this get him down anymore. At six he grabs his bag and jacket and leaves the office with a curt ‘See you on Monday’.

He goes straight home and spends about an hour going through his closet until he finds a set of clothes he can live with. At 8pm sharp the doorbell rings and Dean hurries down the stairs to find Patrick waiting outside leaning against his car, once again nibbling on a toothpick.

“Wow,” the other man exclaims as the apartment door closes behind Dean and the younger man can’t hide a cocky smile.

He does feel pretty good, wearing tight black jeans, a plain white v-neck shirt and a black leather jacket. The drive is comfortably quiet and Dean does his best to pretend not to notice how Patrick looks at him whenever he gets the chance.

The surprise Patrick had promised turns out to be a drive-in theatre. They’re showing ‘Rebel without a cause’ and Dean wonders how the hell Patrick had figured out this was one of his absolute favorite movies. It’s cheesy, he knows that – but when Patrick takes the bag of popcorn out of Dean’s hands and puts his arm around him somewhere halfway through the movie Dean just goes with it, even leans into the embrace.

They have dinner afterwards at a place Dean never even heard of. It’s fancy and he tries reaching for the check but Patrick won’t have any of that. He lets Patrick take him home around midnight and half expects him to kiss him. But Patrick pulls back after a tight hug, turning to make his way back to his car. For a moment Dean feels cold and unsure but then his hand comes up almost automatically, grabbing a hold of Patrick’s shoulder and turning him back around, his lips finding the other man’s and they’re kissing and it’s warm and gentle and perfect. He falls asleep that night with the taste of smoke and wine on his tongue and in that last second before drifting away he’s happy.

~~~

Castiel isn’t blind. He can see what’s happening between Patrick and Dean; he just does he best to put blinders on, and ignore it, because the second he sees a giddy smile on Dean’s face after Patrick’s cracked a joke, his stomach clenches painfully, and he has trouble focusing for minutes afterward.  
Where Dean sees distance between them, Castiel sees a vast cavern, a great maw that just swallows everything they’d built together in the three months (god had it been three months already?) that they’d worked together. It pains him every second, but he knows that not only is it his doing, but that he deserves it. He doesn’t get to have that closeness with Dean, not after turning him down in what he now knows was an incredibly vulnerable moment. He’d done this to himself, so he had to just suck it up, and let Dean have this thing with Patrick....whatever it was.  
The only problem comes when Dean pulls away even more than usual, and Castiel is left with a gaping hole in his life. It’s like the second Dean’s smile is gone, so is the sun, and Castiel is left colder than usual.

He has no idea when he came to depend on that smile to get him through the day, and he desperately wants it back.

Instead, he focuses on his work, stretching his usual 10 hour days into 12...14, sometimes staying all night at the precinct. And on the weekend, when the Chief forces him to go home, he spends his time with Anna, fixing up her house, and with Gabriel. The brothers bond, something they hadn’t done since they were teenagers, and Castiel finds himself laughing more than once, and its surprisingly not forced.  
He’d missed this, this feeling of family. When Balthazar came into his life, he’d withdrawn from his family, feeling a sick guilt whenever his partner would look on jealousy at Christmas or Thanksgiving dinners, even though by merit of being Castiel’s significant other, he was included. Balthazar never let himself get close to Gabriel or Anna though, and things were always tense. Eventually, he started having family events with just the two of them, and by the time that Balthazar was killed, his siblings were practically strangers.  
They’re surprised that he spends the weekend with him, and they ask about Dean, who had become a central part of Castiel’s life begrudgingly quickly. Castiel can’t bring himself to tell them the ugly truth, so he tells a half-truth; Dean had found someone, and appeared happy. Gabriel frowns at that, and Anna coos her sympathies to Castiel, who merely shrugs and lets a small smile come to his lips.  
“Dean deserves to be happy,” he tells them, and he believes every word.

When Monday comes around, Castiel is in the office at 7:30, with three cups of coffee on the desk, just waiting for Dean and Patrick to show up.

He knew his attitude the past week had been...less than friendly...and if he wanted to live up to what he told Anna and Gabriel over the weekend, he would have to make a new start, and try to get along with Patrick.

Even if the man’s smile made Castiel want to punch his face in.

Patrick is the first one in, and doesn’t even try to mask the look of surprise on his face when he’s greeted with donuts and coffee, and a chair all his own in front of Castiel’s desk.

“We got off on the wrong foot, I believe,” Castiel says softly, sipping his own coffee slowly. Patrick sits down and nods, picking up the cup that Castiel gestures to.

“I think we did....does that have something to do with my attraction to Dean?”

Castiel grunts at that, and then sighs, shaking his head minutely.

“..No...and yes. Dean is...enthusiastic. He’s the brightest rookie I’ve ever seen, and I don’t want to see anyone get in the way of his career...or do anything to hurt him.”

Patrick nods. “I get it.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at the man. “I don’t think you do. When I said anyone, I meant _anyone_. Dean...is a good man. Too trusting for his own good. Just don’t...hurt him.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Castiel....Can I call you Castiel?” Cas nods at that, and takes another sip of his coffee, almost choking on it when Patrick speaks again. “I think you’ve done that enough for the both of us.”

Castiel’s eyes widen and he slams the cup down on the desk, just as Dean walks in the room. Both pairs of eyes snap to the green eyed man in the doorway, and there’s an awkward silence before Patrick’s smile takes over his face.

“Good Morning Dean!”

~~~

Dean is a little tense as he arrives at the precinct; the weekend had been quite busy what with his family buzzing around him practically 24/7. Sam and Jo had dragged him to Malibu on Saturday and despite Dean’s reluctance they insist on him at least trying to get back on the board again. They’d spent countless summers here until Dean had met Lisa and the two of them left California to stay with her cousin in Lawrence. Dean never regretted going with her, not only because it was there that he decided to pursue a career in law enforcement. Still, he’d missed LA terribly; the weather, the people, the atmosphere and of course his friends and family. Somehow though he’d sort of unlearned surfing and his siblings apparently think of this as an absolute no-go. When they return to Sam’s place, Dean is completely exhausted and almost collapses under the shower. Sunday is a bit more calm, yet nothing less busy. Another family dinner is coming up that night and Sam – intent on distracting his big brother as much as possible from cruel memories – condemns him to chop vegetables and stir cream for dessert. They sit outside on the balcony for a long time, watching the stars and Dean finds himself more and more confused, as his mind keeps bouncing back and forth between thoughts of Cas and Patrick.

Monday morning he’s astonishingly fit but as he makes his way past his colleagues in the main office room, he feels nervous and insecure. He’s late so it doesn’t surprise him to find both his partner and Patrick already in. There’s also three cups of coffee and a box of donuts, each one decorated with colorful and decadent frosting. Dean’s eyes automatically wander past Castiel to land on Patrick, who’s smiling so brightly back at him that it leaves no doubt.

“Those are my favorite, man - how did you know?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer though; the disappointment of finding Castiel less and less caring about their relationship – even as ‘just’ partners – the way he’d been ignoring him whenever he got a coffee for only himself; it all rushes over him, leaving him with only gratefulness and relief at Patrick’s obvious courtesy. He surges forward, one hand around the other man’s chin as he pulls him in for a quick but deep kiss. Somehow it doesn’t matter they’re being watched, doesn’t even bother Dean that it’s Castiel who’s dark blue eyes are on him as he tears himself away from Patrick again. At least for a second; until Dean sees the look on his partner’s face and he could swear to god it’s hurt and utter despair reflected back upon him. He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat, quickly looking down, away from Patrick and Cas and he blindly reaches out to take a donut.

~

He didn’t plan to go along with this. Man, the moment Dean showed up all he’d felt was happy and excited, seeing him again after thinking about him all weekend. He seems well rested and enthusiastic; his skin has an even darker bronze tone – undoubtedly the result of hours of sunbathing over the past two days – and his hair stands up in damp spikes from his morning shower. Long story short, he looks absolutely and ridiculously good. And yes, Patrick is distracted by all that. So who is he to deny the other man to lean in and kiss him? Even if the reason for it hadn’t exactly been his doings… Afterwards there’s nothing but resentment and pain on Castiel’s features and Patrick feels bad for him, he does. But he just can’t bring himself to tell the truth, to destroy this happy moment for Dean and himself. He can feel Castiel’s eyes on the back of his head the rest of the day, knows the other man is fuming with righteous rage. Still, Castiel doesn’t call him out on the blatant lie – or concealing the truth at least – and Patrick is not sure why.


	15. Snooping is Never a Good Idea

Another week passes and Dean is on Cloud 9. He’s still living with Sam and even though his younger brother doesn’t seem too happy with Dean seeing someone other than Castiel – the knight in shining armor that’d saved his brother’s life – that quickly, he at least puts a good face on the matter. Patrick is over for dinner two times before Dean decides that he won’t expose the other man to his curious family anymore and they spend more and more time at Patrick’s place. At some point they retreat from the cramped office to an old interrogation room at the end of the corridor; on one side it’s because it gets way too crowded with the three men and all the files Patrick had brought from Sacramento, on the other Dean just can’t bear the looks he knows Castiel is giving them whenever they lean close to whisper in each other’s ears or their hands find each other under the table. So they’re alone most of the time, meeting Castiel only a couple of times a day to exchange details that link several files and cases. Dean doesn’t know how to feel about it all. That thing between him and Patrick just happened so fast and while yes, the other man does make him happy, most of the time he’s not even sure if this is real or what he really wants.

Two weeks after their first date he’s over at Patrick’s place, snuggled up on the couch against the other man, Patrick’s hand gently brushing through his hair as they’re watching some late night talk show. It’s the last evening before Patrick would go back to Sacramento, the last time they’d see each other for at least a week, whenever Patrick could find the time to come back down or Dean to visit him. When Patrick starts squirming Dean blinks and pushes himself up to look at him. The other man’s olive eyes are on him, his face serious as Dean had never seen him before. His mind flashes back to that night, back to the moment when Cas had pulled away from him, reminded him so considerately of their deal and how what they had was nothing but carnally. But then Patrick takes his hands in his and Dean can feel them trembling and he leans close to kiss him, whispering the very same three words against his lips that had destroyed whatever Dean and Castiel had had…

It’s Dean who pulls back this time, eyes wide with a feeling he can’t quite pinpoint himself.

“I love you, Dean,” Patrick repeats and raises his lover’s hands to his lips, kissing his fingertips. And Dean wants to say it back. He wants to let himself have this so bad. But the words don’t come and Patrick doesn’t push or expect anything but Dean can see the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He doesn’t stay the night and he knows how this must look to Patrick but he just can’t be around him right now.

The next morning is grey, thin veils of rain covering his windshield and although Dean runs from his car to the precinct he’s soaking wet when he slips inside. He makes his way past Andy and Ash who wearily play finger skateboard, utters a half-yawned ‘hello’ before he disappears into the office. His and Castiel’s office. He’d only spent two weeks in another room and already the office looks different, strange and unfamiliar. Castiel isn’t there yet and Dean puts down a second cup of coffee on the other man’s table before flopping down on his own chair and hiding his face in his hands.

_‘I love you, Dean,_ ’ Patrick’s voice hums in his ears and Dean shakes his head softly.

Why does it have to be like this? Why is everything so hard, so complicated? Why couldn’t he have just said it back, why can’t he let himself be happy?

~~~

There’s a noise as the door opens, and Castiel pauses in the doorway, before walking out again without saying a word. He comes back a few minutes later, and drops a towel over Dean’s head, without an ounce of finesse.

“You’re dripping,” he says by way of explanation, before hanging up his own wet overcoat and then taking a seat at his desk. He stares at the coffee on his desk for a moment, before turning to press the switch, the sound of his computer booting up loud in the quiet room; the storm from outside was like white noise, thankfully making it not as awkward as it would normally be. They hadn’t said more than a handful of words to one another in the time that Patrick had invaded their office and Dean’s life, bringing with him a carefree attitude that Castiel had grown to despise. The boxes and boxes of information on the human trafficking from the greater Sacramento area were welcome though, and Castiel had spent countless hours going over them; he begrudgingly acknowledges, if only to himself, that Patrick was actually an incredibly good Detective.

He logs into the system and starts reading his emails, eyes flicking to the coffee on his desk again and again, before he finally clears his throat and just asks.

“…Is this for me?” He almost startles himself with how loud his voice seems; with the door to their office closed, the rest of the department seemed miles away, the ringing phones and bustle of the late shift leaving and the morning shift arriving just background noise. Castiel swallows and looks up from the coffee to Dean, his eyes wide with something akin to apprehension, and perhaps hope.

~~~

“You're dripping,” Cas says and Dean's eyes follow the other man from underneath the scratchy precinct towel until he eventually lifts his arms to dry off his hair and drape the towel around his neck.

He doesn't know what to make of this gesture, of how Castiel's words were still distant and reasoned but his actions spoke of something else, something more...important, more emotional... Dean, too, is startled by Castiel's question and despite everything he laughs softly and shrugs his shoulders.

“Sure it is. You see anyone else around?”

He shakes his head and motions the other man to help himself, taking up his own cup and raising it in Castiel's direction before taking a sip of coffee. There's a couple of seconds of silence, then Castiel finally does as suggested and Dean feels a little bit of the tension disappear. It's still a strange feeling, being alone with Cas after having Patrick present and almost constantly muttering theories and/or sweet words into his ear for two weeks. Dean looks up from his computer only to find Castiel looking back at him and they both quickly avert their gaze, staring back down at their work. The numbers and letters blur in front of Dean's eyes and again he hears Patrick's words in his head, ringing, vibrating, urging.

“How was your weekend?” He says and it's only to shut up the voices inside of his head.

~~~

Castiel lets out a soft sigh of pleasure as he tastes the still hot coffee. It was perfect, made exactly how he liked it. He chooses to ignore the pang in his chest, and simply nods his thanks in Dean’s direction before he sets down the cup.

“It was fine,” he says slowly, one eyebrow arching up slightly at the question. Dean hadn’t asked him how he was since Patrick arrived. He knew that Patrick had left for Sacramento that morning, or maybe late last night, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe that was why Dean was suddenly paying attention to him again.

“…How was yours?” he asks after a long moment, eyes drifting from the cup of coffee to the towel still dropped around Dean’s shoulders, and finally to Dean’s face. Castiel finds himself staring after a moment, and looks away once again, shuffling papers awkwardly across his desk.

~~~

Dean doesn't answer right away, pursing his lips as he thinks about what had happened and what he was willing to, what he was courageous enough to tell Castiel.

“Fine,” is all he says in the end, swallowing heavily around the lump that returned to his throat “Just fine.”

They work in silence for a couple of hours and Dean tries his best to ignore the five emails Patrick sent him since yesterday night, while simultaneously trying to avoid looking at Castiel every ten seconds. Lunchtime comes and goes and Dean leaves the office without a word, returning five minutes later with two burgers and fries. Castiel is obviously surprised but he doesn't reject the gesture, even though he's not much of a fan of burgers (Dean got him the chicken burger, which is the closest to healthy he could get and that must count for something, right?). They eat at their desks and after a while they start talking. Not much, nothing too personal. Castiel asks about Dean's family and in return tells Dean about spending time with his. Somehow it makes Dean's heart ache.

When they were...dating, for the lack of a better word, since 'fucking around' sounded way too insignificant for what they'd done, Cas had never talked about his siblings, Dean hadn't even known they existed. The way he talks about how creative Anna is and how annoying yet brilliant Gabriel could be Dean feels almost as if he's known them forever. For the rest of the day they work side by side quietly, though the silence seems a little less uncomfortable than before. There's even a few times Dean manages to forget about Patrick and the fact that every time he does remember he feels a cold shiver run down his spine is more of a problem than he wants to admit to himself. He just wishes he could tell Castiel, as fucked up as this may be. He feels like his partner is the only person who gets him, the only person he wants to pour out his heart to.

It's past six o'clock when Dean finally reads Patrick's first message.

Patrick: 'I got home alright, thanks for your text. Already miss you like hell.'

Dean takes a deep breath and nibbles on his lower lip, then opens the second message.

Patrick: 'God, I wish you were here. I wanna show you Sacramento, there's this amazing candy shop where you can buy all sorts of sweets by the pound. I miss you.'

The third message is much shorter but straight forward.

Patrick: I love you. I love you so much Dean.

Dean can't bring himself to open the others, jumping up from his chair and muttering 'I need some air' before storming out of the office. He leaves the precinct and walks around back where he lights himself a cigarette and leans against the cool stone wall.

“What are doing, man,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head again and again “You can do this, Dean...dammit, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

~~~

The day goes…well. Surprisingly well all things considered, and despite the pain in his chest whenever he gets a whiff of Dean’s cologne, or whenever Dean actually cracks a slow smile, Castiel is okay by the end of the day. He’s actually considering buying them dinner, when Dean jumps out of his chair and runs out of their office, with barely a word to let Castiel know he was leaving.

Castiel stares at the door for a moment, wondering what the hell that had been about, and then his partner’s cell phone rings. It lights up and dances across the desk, vibrating closer and closer to the edge. He gets up and quickly walks over, catching it just as it falls off the edge, but the ringing stops, and he barely catches the name on the screen before it once again goes dark.

PATRICK, it says, in bold letters. Castiel’s hand clenches around the phone, and then he sets it down, mouth pursed, shoulders tense. He’s about to go back to his desk when a flicker of movement on the screen of Dean’s computer catches his eye- a new email.

He frowns, and feels a sick guilt creep into his stomach as his eyes flicker over the email in front of him.

_‘I love you. I love you so much Dean'_

Castiel doesn’t even have to look at the sender to know it’s from Patrick, and he feels a rage boil up inside him, and he can’t stop himself from clicking to read the other messages.

The other messages are simple, something about missing Dean and wishing he would come up to Sacramento, another one that Patrick made it home safe. He hesitates for a second before he clicks and opens up the two new ones, the ones that even Dean hadn’t read yet, and his eyes open wide in shock when he reads them.

Patrick: oh, yeah, say Hi to your stoic grump of a partner for me, will you? Didn’t get a chance to say thanks for his help.

Patrick: I can’t stop thinking about the look on your face last night, when I made you come. God you’re beautiful Dean.

His head pounds and his chest clenches, the room reeling as what he’d been dreading sinks into place in front of his very eyes. Dean and Patrick were not only intimate, but they were dating. And they were in love.

Castiel feels violently ill suddenly, to realize how easily he’s been replaced. No…not replaced, because he and Dean were never really dating. Not the way that Dean and Patrick are. He shuts his eyes tight, squeezing them shut for a moment to stop the burning that signaled oncoming tears, before opening them again and closing the two windows. He’s about to click on the emails to mark them as unread, when Dean steps back into the office.

~~~

It takes him only five minutes before he goes back inside, passing Ash with a feeble promise of hanging out later. Opening the office door he finds Castiel leaning over his, Dean's, computer and for a moment all they do is stare at each other. There's shock and obvious unease on Castiel's face and Dean doesn't even want to start imagining how he looks, considering how he feels right now. He steps forward, closing the door behind him quietly, his eyes still on his partner who hasn't dared to move away from the desk yet.

“What are you doing?” he asks although the answer to his question is very clear “What, so now you're...spying on me?”

~~~

“Your phone,” Castiel starts, and then straightens up and clears his throat, taking his hands away from Dean’s computer as he steps back one step.

“It went off. I stopped it from falling onto the floor...and…I don’t… I didn’t mean to, Dean,” he stutters, and then frowns, anger taking over for the shock and embarrassment he’d been feeling, “but you really shouldn’t use your work email to sext your boyfriend.”

He walks away back towards his own desk, his cheeks still burning with red, a combination of utter embarrassment and feeling betrayed, which was just stupid. He and Dean weren’t together. They’re never been together, Castiel had made sure of that. It was completely irrational and stupid for him to feel like this, and to take it out on Dean was even worse, when he was the one in the wrong. He sits down though, and doesn’t say another word, even though there’s a part of him that wants desperately to apologize. Castiel doesn’t, turning back to his own work instead.

~~~

Sexting? Dean falters. And then Cas actually walks past him and sits back down again and something inside of him just snaps and he follows him, grabbing his shirt collar and yanking him back up again to shove him against the wall.

“You had no right,” he snarls and his hand is still fisted tightly around the cheap tie Castiel is wearing today “No right to read those! What I'm doing, who I'm doing – it's none of your business, Castiel!”

~~~

Castiel is startled by Dean's sudden rage, eyes wide as he's slammed back against the wall, pushpins digging into his back and papers falling to the floor where they're knocked loose behind him. He winces at Dean's yelling, and is grateful that it's late enough that it's unlikely that anyone else is in the building, beside the cleaning crew or a few late workers like them.

"You're right," he says softly, not making any move to get out of Dean's grasp. "It's none of my business who you see, or fall in love with...just one question though, Winchester," his voice is so calm it almost doesn't sound like him to his ears, until he hears the slight sneer in it when he speaks again, "Just how long did it take for you to _fall in love_ with him? Must be a new record right? Sure got me beat."

~~~

And that's it. That's just it. Dean feels himself lifting a hand, knows he's lunging out and yet he can't stop himself. The flat of his hand collides with Cas' cheek and Dean can see the surprise on his partner's face but he doesn't stop, doesn't even give him a chance to dwell on it.

“Fuck you!” He's yelling now, his eyes gleaming with fury, both of his hands pushing at Castiel's shoulders, pressing him harder into the wall, their faces only inches apart. “You have no idea, Castiel. You don't know me so don't you dare act like you do!”

~~~

Castiel sees stars for a second, his head exploding with pain from the smack that Dean lands. It fades quickly though, and instead he’s left with a burning heat, throbbing in his cheek as Dean continues to yell at him. The words are furious, angry to the core, and yet they don’t drive Castiel to react. He just stares at Dean, finding that it’s almost a delirious reaction to feel happiness bloom in his chest. Dean’s touching him, looking him in the eyes and speaking to him, even if it’s in anger, for the first time in two weeks.

For the first time in far too long, he was the center of Dean’s attention again, and it felt like the sun was back, even if it was so close it was burning.

Castiel doesn’t fight back as Dean shakes him, instead standing there, absolutely still, just staring back at Dean; his eyes wide with wonder, lips parted slightly in awe. He’d been so insanely stupid to chase Dean away. It was just his luck that he could only now realize it, right when he was sure that Dean not only didn’t love him anymore, but actively hated him.

~~~

Cas doesn't move, doesn't even seem to breathe and the way his blue eyes seem to look right through him is more than just a little unsettling.

“What's wrong with you?” Dean croaks, his voice weak with anger and distress, his fingers clawing into the fabric of Castiel's shirt, pulling him closer unconsciously “Say something...do something, why aren't you fighting back, why...”

His voice breaks then, his eyes meeting Castiel's unwaveringly bright, sad ones and he can't tear his gaze away. His grip tightens. They're only a hair's breadth apart, breathing the same hot air and Dean feels that familiar attraction again, like gravity pulling him towards the other man and he can't seem to withstand it any longer. It's surprisingly easy to lean in and capture Cas' lips with his. The other man is still against him, lips unmoving against his and Dean moves his hands up to cup Castiel's face, angling him to the side and licking across the seam of his mouth until Cas lets out a gasp and he finds the other man's tongue. Nothing is forgotten, neither the pain nor the humiliation this man had caused him. But nothing and nobody, not even sweet, gentle Patrick, can belie what he really feels for Castiel. He pushes up his knee, forcing it between Castiel's legs and rubbing it against his crotch. The soft whimpers are like honey, running down his sore throat and he tastes like smoke and ash and he knows Cas doesn't like it but he's not pulling away or telling him to stop so Dean doesn't. Instead he reaches down to grab Castiel's hips, sliding his hands down until he can lift the other man up, his long legs wrapping around Dean's body automatically as he turns them and slams Cas down on the table. Clothes are torn off and neither of them can be sure who started undressing who. It doesn't matter. And then their naked chests slide together, Dean's hands fumbling with Cas' belt, their lips sealed in a ferocious kiss, wild and unyielding, all teeth and tongue and want and need.

~~~

Castiel wants to answer Dean. He wants to tell the man in front of him everything; how much he cares, how wrong he’d been, how absolutely breath taking Dean is, from every angle. He can’t bring himself to speak though, the words trapped in his throat, caught behind his fears and anxieties, and so he remains silent, motionless. Dean grips his shirt tighter, and then leans in, and Castiel’s unable to stop his breath from hitching in his chest at the first press of lips to his.

He melts then, melts under Dean’s hot touch, the fingers against his face molding him to fit against Dean perfectly. Castiel lets out a small surprised sound when Dean lifts him, breath punched out of him by the hard landing on the desk. Papers go flying and once again they’re doing this in their office, only the positions are reversed. Castiel’s hands spring into action, sliding up over Dean’s shoulders and scraping blunt nails through his hair, along his scalp as he gasps out Dean’s name over and over again.

“Dean…oh-..Dean, _Dean_ ,” he whispers, voice cracking on emotions and dry throat alike. He shudders when Dean palms him through his slacks, and Castiel knows it’s going to be quick. He scrabbles for purchase, wrapping a leg up and around the side of Dean’s body to pull him down, twin groans sounding out as their erections bump against one another through layers of fabric. Castiel grinds up, hands pulling Dean down for another desperate biting kiss, admiring Dean’s cherry red lips for a split second, before he can’t even think anymore.

Everything is liquid pleasure, riding up his spine, and the smell of Dean is thick in his nostrils as he sighs and moans the other man’s name like a prayer.

“Dean- _fuck_ , please, ah!…,” Castiel gasps, hands clenching and unclenching around Dean’s shirt, pressing kiss after kiss to the other man’s lips. This was desperate and crazy, rutting like high-schoolers against one another, the desk beneath him scraping across the floor in stutters as Dean thrusts down against his hips. Dean’s panting against his ear, and Castiel wants so badly to go further than this, but he knows they won’t last. Instead he wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders and brings him down for another kiss, feeling his orgasm building rapidly inside him.

“Cas,” Dean croaks out against his lips, and Castiel kisses him again, murmuring Dean’s name soft, eyes locking onto Dean’s as his hands clench around Dean’s back. He comes then, breathless and silent, eyes fluttering shut and head dropping back even as his hips jerk toward Dean’s own. Dean follows him over, the soft utterance of ‘sonofa-ahh fuck-!’ would be almost humorous, if it wasn’t so hot. Dean collapses on top of Castiel’s chest, and neither moves, too spent, too breathless to do anything else.

~~~

The minutes after are filled with heavy breathing, small gasps and the rustling of their clothes. Their groins are still pressed together, pants damp from the pleasure they'd brought each other. And Dean would feel guilty, like the cheating asshole he is, but he just can't. Cause this is Cas. Him and Cas. Cas. Dean can feel his partner's heart beat against his chest, fluttering like a caged bird and his hands on Dean's arms are trembling, still holding on to him carefully. Despite how fast and chaotic those past few minutes had been, Cas hadn't touched him roughly once and Dean is incredibly grateful for it. His mind wanders back to when he and Patrick had been together for the first time, how the other man had turned him around and gripped him by the wrists, pulling them up above his head and once again Dean had had a minor freak-out. Of course Patrick hadn't known. Cas hadn't dared to touch him, other than kissing and guiding him, pulling him down gently against his own body. Dean lets out a small sob, hiding his face in the crook of Castiel's neck and breathing him in. When he pulls back Castiel is looking up at him out of hooded eyes. It's strange but not as awkward as Dean had imagined this to be. There's just something about them, this situation – a familiarity, a closeness that's simply incomparable. Dean reaches out to brush a strand of dark brown hair out of Castiel's forehead, his fingers stroking the side of his face gently.

“Dammit Cas,” he whispers but he can't stop the smile that curls his lips at the look Castiel gives him “What now? What is this?”

~~~

Castiel is still breathing hard, dazed from what just happened between them. He stares up at Dean, eyes having trouble focusing as they water slightly, and he has to clear his throat before he can speak; the way Dean brushes the hair off his forehead touching him far deeper than he wants to admit, even to himself.  
“...I...I don’t know Dean,” he says softly, his hands still on Dean’s body, holding him close. He sits up slowly, pushing Dean back until he’s perched on the edge of the desk with Dean wedged between his thighs, still as close as they could possibly be while remaining fully clothed. He licks his lips, the dry rasp of it telling him that once again, he was going to have cracked lips in the morning from the brutal kisses they’d just shared.  
“I don’t know,” he repeats just as softly, but his hands come up to cup Dean’s face, a gentle pressure, barely holding Dean at all as Castiel lets his thumbs brush up and over the spray of freckles on Dean’s cheeks.   
“I know I missed you...missed this,” he admits, eyes looking down between them, before they flick back up, and Castiel leans up to kiss Dean again, firm and unyielding.   
“Missed us.”

~~~

As much as he enjoys Cas touching him like this, uttering those words, they also cut deep into him, the uncertainty of them too apparent for Dean to ignore. Pulling back required more inner strength than he would have expected and it’s even harder with Cas clinging to him, seemingly unable to let go. Dean takes Castiel’s hands and guides them between the two of them, closing his fingers gently around the other man’s before speaking.

“I can’t do this again Cas,” he says and it’s not what he wants to say, it’s the opposite of what his body, his whole being is screaming, crying and yearning for but he says it and he won’t take it back “This…I want this more than anything, you know that…but- Patrick loves me…”

He pauses, lowering his gaze to their entwined hands and feels Castiel’s body tighten beneath him. When he looks back up into his partner’s eyes they’re glassy and Dean thinks it might actually be fear he sees.

“I’d do anything to have you…but- I can’t keep waiting for you to make up your mind, Cas…I could have something with Patrick, we could build something. But I keep thinking about you and I tried to forget you, I did but…”

He falls silent once more, biting his lip as he tries to find the right words.

“I don’t fall in love with all my partners, Cas…only you…”

~~~

Castiel’s eyes search Dean’s as he talks, watching the way the pupils dilate and close up again, the way his lips part with each exhale. He trembles slightly as Dean takes his hand, stiffening up when he hears Dean say that Patrick loves him.

How could Patrick possibly know Dean well enough to really love him? They’d known each other for two weeks. It just didn’t seem possibly. It had taken Castiel almost a year before he’d said I love you to Balthazar; a year before he trusted what he felt enough to say it, to return the feelings that the other man had been professing from the beginning. He shakes his head softly and sits up further, gripping Dean’s hands tight where they’re holding one another.

“Dean…you need to know that it took me almost a year… to tell Balthazar that I loved him. I- with how I work, I need to be sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt,” he says softly, pulling one hand out of their grasp to reach up and brush a thumb over Dean’s bruised lips. Castiel sighs and pulls Dean to him, their foreheads pressed together.

“I can’t promise you anything…but I’ll try. I want to try Dean…,” he whispers, hand gripping tight around the back of Dean’s neck, holding him there. God he wanted Dean. And it was selfish and wrong to want him, knowing there was a good man somewhere that professed to actually love him- it was wrong of Castiel to want Dean all to himself, not knowing if he could be good for Dean, or if he would just hurt him again. Castiel shuts his eyes and swallows heavily, feeling the coldness of his release in his pants, uncomfortable and drying to stickiness. He opens his eyes again and lets his search Dean’s once more, trying to pinpoint the emotions he could see flickering through the green depths.

~~~

It's not like Castiel's words surprise or shock him; in light of what had happened between them over the short time they'd know each other they even make sense in some strange, cruel way. Dean probably would've slapped Cas' face again if he'd told him he loved him back right then and there, so he guesses in a way this is the best thing he could have hoped for. Still it hurts, knowing what he'd carefully tried to hope for is true. Dean remembers what he'd once told Castiel what seems to be a million years ago.

_“You're just a scared little boy who doesn't know how to live on his own.”_

And Castiel is scared, Dean knows that now. Scared of letting go of Balthazar, scared of admitting that the memory of him doesn't do him justice but instead drags him down a miserable and lonely path. But most of all he's scared to let himself love again, although Dean isn't sure yet if it's because he thinks that admitting his feelings for someone else would make him forget about what he and Balthazar had shared, or simply would make him vulnerable and weak.

A deep breath brushes against the skin of Castiel's mouth and Dean closes his eyes, his own hand cupping the one now resting on his cheek. They stay like this for a moment. Then Dean pulls back, reluctant to let go but too aware of the situation both of their pants are currently in. He helps Cas up with a crooked smile, reaching down to pick up their shirts and handing Castiel his. They get dressed quietly and Dean doesn't know if it's a comfortable silence or an awkward one. When they leave the office, there's only a couple of guys from the night shift around, leaning over their desks and muttering an unenthusiastic 'bye' as the two men make their way past them. Outside they stop just by the curb and Dean stands right in front of his partner, taking his hand into both of his and raising it to his own chest.

“I wanna try this, too,” he says, answering a question Castiel hadn't even asked with a certainty that surprises himself “I...next to my family you're the most important person in my life, Castiel. Hell, you saved my life, it's practically yours already.”

He laughs at that but it's quiet and tentative, his eyes searching Castiel's for a sign, hoping against all odds that this would end the way he wishes it will.

~~~

Castiel’s hand clenches around Dean’s shirt fabric, and he swallows thickly, eyes wide with fear and wonder. Dean was giving him a second chance, and he knew he couldn’t afford to screw up again. Not if he had any hope in hell of making this thing between them into something real, something worthy of the love Dean said he felt for him.

He doesn’t even bother to look around as he surges in and kisses Dean once more, attempting to impart all the feelings that were bottling up inside him into it; there’s need and desperation and hope and relief there, and then something else underneath it all, warm and blossoming with every look Dean threw his way.

“Good,” he croaks when they part, licking his lips and tasting Dean there.

“That’s good,” Castiel says, and even though he’s trying for confident, it almost comes out like a question, his eyebrows raised and voice slightly hesitant.

~~~

Dean smiles then, nods and leans in to kiss Castiel once more, kiss the frown, the worry off his handsome features. When they part, Cas walking over to his car while Dean crosses the street to where he parked the Impala, they can't seem to stop looking at each other for longer than a second. There's a giddy smile on Dean's face as he gets into his car and he catches Castiel's gaze once more.

'Later,' he mouths and starts the engine, steering his baby on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Thank you to those who are commenting, bookmarking and leaving kudos! It means SO much to me and my co-author! We'll keep posting, hopefully 2-3 times a week, as the story comes out of us. :)


	16. Anger Issues

The drive home is a whirlwind of emotions, the strongest, the one most prominent of them all being pure and utter happiness. No matter what this thing that they'd both agreed on is – Castiel has feelings for him and he's willing to try and let Dean into his heart. And now that he knows this, there's no way Dean would ever let go of him again.

But there's something else pounding at the back of his head, tarnishing the pristine white bliss like droplets of black ink, absorbing it until there's nothing left but guilt. Sweet, charming Patrick, Patrick who loves him, who left LA less than a day ago and already misses him terribly. Dean feels horrible just thinking about it, about Patrick who kept sending him sweet messages to let him know he cares, let him know he's wanted. Dean is already halfway to his apartment when he pulls the wheel around without any warning, turning the car towards Northern Broadway. It's insane, he knows it is. But he cheated and there's no way around it. And he won't betray Patrick any more than he already has, he deserves so much better than this. Merging on Interstate 5 he turns on the radio, wincing at the sound of Taylor Swift bashing another ex with that bittersweet wailing voice of hers. It would be a long drive.

~~~

Castiel goes home, to his quiet apartment, and for the first time since Balthazar died, it doesn’t feel like it’s some kind of sick shrine to what had been. He carefully looks over all the photos of him and Balthazar, all their nicknacks, the things that they’d gotten in their years together, and then he starts the long process of sorting things away into boxes.

There was a giveaway box for things that weren’t sentimental, but that he had no use for anymore, like most of Balthazar’s clothing, and hair products. Maybe someone else could use them, but Castiel knew that the clothing wouldn’t fit him (they’d tried), and the hair products weren’t his style at all.

There’s a second box for sentimental things, things he thought maybe he’d want to look at one day, but that for now didn’t belong out and in the open, where they would just be a reminder of the life he’d had, but no longer had any hope of regaining. There’s a sadness that breaks open in him, and he cries as he boxes up their photos, all but a handful of things pushed away into a box, to sit at the bottom of his closet. The tears stream, but Castiel finds that as he clears the apartment of physical belongings, he’s also dusting off himself.

It had been 6 months…almost 7, since Balthazar had died.

It was time to say goodbye one more time, and finally let go.

“…I know this is stupid,” he whispers, brushing his fingers along the picture frame in his hands, the picture of him and Balthazar, grinning as they held up twin commendations for the very first case they’d solved together.

“…but I just need you to know that I love you. I’ll always love you, Balthazar. But I can’t live like this anymore…you’re gone…and-,” he takes a shuddering breath, and then lets it out, “You’re not coming back. I know you’d say I’m being a ‘sweet idiot’ for talking to you like this, but I don’t care- I just. I need you to know that I love you…but I’ve got to try to move on. I can’t stay here like this, married to your ghost….”

He trails off, and lets out a huff of a laugh when he realizes that he’d actually been waiting for an answer. One that, logically, he knew would never come.

“Bye…Balthazar.”

Castiel tucks the picture into the box, and then slides it into the back of his closet, before shutting the door.

~

Patrick is sitting at home, nursing a beer and watching a Kings game on the TV, when he decides to try and get some sleep. It was 11pm, and Dean hadn’t texted or emailed him back. He sighs, but then gets up and wanders off to bed, clicking the TV off as he goes.

A loud knock on his front door jolts Patrick up in bed hours later, and he glares at the blinking alarm clock that tells him that someone had the gall to wake him up at 3:52am. He pulls on a t-shirt as he shuffles to the front door, yelling ‘I’m coming, I’m coming!’ as he goes, yawning and scrubbing at his face. It was too early, and his phone hadn’t shown any missed calls. This better not be one of his stupid neighbors, complaining about where he parked his car again.

He unlocks and then yanks open the door, only to go from half-asleep-and-grumpy to insanely and pleasantly surprised in .5 seconds.

“Dean? Oh wow, come here,” he laughs, yanking Dean in for a tight hug.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming up?!”

~~~

By the time he makes it to Sacramento Dean is absolutely exhausted. He has to check his phone at least four times for the exact address and misses the right turn almost as often. When he parks his car in front of the apartment building Patrick lives in he's wide awake though, adrenaline punching through his veins, sweat on his forehead and on his palms, as he knocks at the door. There's some shuffling, groans and muttered curses and then Patrick opens the door, clad in boxers and a t-shirt and Dean is pulled into a hug that leaves him breathless for a moment. He lets him, even raises his own hands to return the gesture a bit hesitantly. And suddenly he's not so sure if this had been a good idea. He'd thought about calling to announce his visit beforehand but discarded the idea immediately. What on earth would he have told him when he asked why he was taking the long drive up to see him in the middle of the night?

'We need to talk.'

Absolutely not. Dean knows from personal experience how utterly soul-crushing those four words are and he could never let anybody suffer for hours, not knowing what they had to expect. It's painful enough how bright Patrick smiles at him, how he ushers him inside, kissing his temples, his neck, his lips, starting to undo the buttons of Dean's shirt. He stops him before he can get any further, a hand on Patrick's and the way the other man grins up at him is almost too much to bear.

“I need to talk to you,” he says and wants to bite his own tongue. There's just no way, no other option but to tell him, as fast and least cruel as possible “I- I can't do this anymore, Patrick.”

The other man's face hardens and the way his forehead pulls into a frown and his lips become thin, white lines is so fucking horrible and Dean wants to look away but he can't, he won't, he deserves to see what he's doing to the person who loves him.

“You're such a great guy, hell, you're everything I could ask for but...”

He falls silent, gnawing his lower lip. Patrick is still staring at him, seemingly unable to speak and Dean hates himself more and more for every word that falls off his lips.

“I'm just not...I can't...I don't feel the same about you and it wouldn't be right to pretend I did...”

~~~

Patrick sits down on the couch as if his strings have been cut, and he’s just lost all ability to stand up in that moment. He lets out a long exhale, and then looks up at Dean, the frown on his face not budging.

“It’s because of Castiel, isn’t it?” He asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

Patrick had been aware of the tension between the partners from the second he’d stepped in the room; he just hadn’t been sure why it was there, when all they did was ignore one another. Now though, with how Castiel had talked to him about Dean, and Dean’s sudden distance, he’s pretty sure he gets it.

“You love him.”

~~~

Dean winces at how cold, how analytical Patrick sounds and only after a few seconds manages a small nod. He owes Patrick this, his honesty, at least. Showing up unannounced in the middle of the night to break up with somebody must be one of the most despicable things someone could do to a person who cares so much about them.

“I do...... I'm so sorry Patrick, you deserve so much better and- I just... I love him. Very much.”

~~~

Patrick slouches back to lean against the back of the couch, scrubbing both of his hands over his face to fist in his hair, trying to contain the anger he was feeling. Dean was right. It was completely messed up that this was happening, and he did deserve better. But he didn’t want better. He wanted Dean.

“…So there’s no hope for me, is there? Because you just drove 8..9? hours to tell me thanks but no thanks.”

He chuckles bitterly and sighs, letting his hands flop down into his lap with a grimace.

“…I should probably tell you that it was Castiel that brought the donuts, last week. The ones with the frosting that you said were your favorite. And the coffee….,” he sighs, and then just lets loose, rambling out the rest of the things that Castiel had done, but that Dean had assumed Patrick was responsible for. “…and ordered chinese with extra dumplings for you on Tuesday, and then there was that file that went missing, I didn’t find it, Castiel did. I came into the office on Thursday and he was there with it in his arms. I think he’d slept on the couch all night….,”

Patrick trails off and looks over at Dean, lips pulled into a thin, sad smile.

“…I don’t know what happened with you two…but he does care about you. He even did the thinly veiled ‘hurt my partner I hurt you’ thing.”

~~~

The pain is blatantly obvious on Patrick's face and it makes it even harder for Dean, watching him slump on the couch, looking so terribly small and sad. He wants to kneel down in front of him, wants to pull him into his arms and apologize, tell him that he wishes he could love him back. But Patrick stops all of his attempts dead in their tracks as he gets up and walks back to the door, opening it up, not really looking up at Dean as he follows him slowly to the corridor.

“You should go now,” he says and Dean feels his heart break a little at how distant the other man sounds. He knows he needs this, refusing himself to let go of his feelings in front of Dean would be too much, too embarrassing. So he steps outside, turning to look at the other man once more.

“I'm sorry, Patrick,” he says but the door falls closed before Patrick can say anything back.

The horizon is all warm orange and bright pink when Dean gets inside of his car and cries until the world goes away for a while. He doesn't know how much time passes but when he wakes up eventually its bright daylight and the clock reads 12pm. He gets out and walks until his feet hurt, sitting down in the corner booth of some shabby diner. He just stares out of the window for hours, watching people pass and trying to process everything that had happened in the past couple of hours... Its early afternoon when he eventually pulls out his phone and texts Castiel that he took the day off and that he's sorry. He's gonna have to deal with the Chief tomorrow and he doesn't look forward to it. But as fucked up as it sounds - he's glad he came. It hurts but it also feels right. Time would heal Patrick's heart, he's sure of it.

~~~

Patrick waits until he hears Dean’s footsteps walk away, and then the sound of the Impala start up, before he lets go. He rages, letting out the anger he’d felt when he’d seen the look on Castiel’s face as he watched Dean, the way Dean would sometimes get the same fucking look on his when he thought no one was watching him- watch Castiel.

He ends up tearing his living room apart, lamps broken, a few fist shaped holes in the walls, each one punctuated with Dean’s words, telling him that he’s ‘sorry’ and ‘you deserve better’ because of course ‘I love him’. He shrieks as he lets it out, and by the time he’s done he has bleeding knuckles and he’s panting, chest heaving from the exertion of it all. Patrick collapses in the center of his living room, and curls forward like a child, head pressed to the floor as he sobs.

The tears that come to his eyes dry eventually, and the blood stops trickling from the wounds in his hand. Patrick sits up and takes stock of his living room, sighing in relief when he realizes that, at least this time he’d managed not to break his TV.

He calls his Chief, and requests another therapy session. The anger management wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped, going solo.


	17. Chapter 17

~

Castiel is at work, worried out of his mind, because it’s after noon and Dean isn’t there. He’d sent a few texts, but they hadn’t been replied to, so he’s sitting in the office, glancing furtively at his phone every few seconds.

What if Dean had changed his mind? What if he’d figured out a way to make the Chief change his, and managed to swing a transfer?

What if last night was the last time he ever gets to see Dean?

Castiel ends up making himself sick with worry, and he goes home, claiming illness. The Chief takes one look at him and orders him to go home and _stay there,_ until he stops looking like ‘death warmed over, Jesus, Novak get out of here.’

He drives home and collapses in bed after a shower to help calm his nerves, the drawn shades doing little to hide the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon.

His phone finally chirps though, the sound of a text message making him scramble for it and flip it open. A breath whooshes out of him, all the tension from the entire morning draining from his body and leaving him mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Dean: sorry I ditched work today, needed to take care of something

Dean: i'll be back tomorrow, promise

He sighs and then texts back, keeping it short, and hopefully, sweet.

Castiel: It’s okay. Are you okay? Was worried about you.

~~~

The unmistakable affection shining through the short text message makes Dean smile and he motions for the check before texting back

Dean: I'm fine, I promise. I'll see you tomorrow.

Once he's paid for the cup of coffee he leaves the diner and gets into his car, sitting behind the wheel for another good five minutes before he finally starts the engine. He's never been to Sacramento and as he takes the road out of the city he thinks he might never come back again. It's a strange feeling, almost some sort of ridiculous sense of loss and closure and he tries to ignore it as best as he can. It's pitch-black night when he makes it back to Los Angeles, the city lights guiding him, illuminating his way home. There's a post-it note at the door and Dean can see from 30 feet away it's from Ellen.

_'You better call me the minute you read this, boy.'_

Dean smiles as he pulls the note off the door and unlocks it. His apartment is quiet and dark and in a way it seems more welcoming than ever. He sinks down onto his couch, pulling out his cell and doing as his mother told him. The conversation is short and Dean lies about where he's been but Ellen seems to be content enough with him being too absorbed into his work to answer the phone and later spending the night partying. She doesn't need to know it's been weeks since he went out, ever since the incident with Alastair to be precise. He kind of misses it though if he's perfectly honest and the minute he puts down the phone he texts Cas again.

Dean: You're in the mood to go out?

~~~

Castiel had spent the time Dean was MIA on their files; he'd gone over every lead again, and examined every angle of everything he possibly could. He still hadn't found anything solid, but had a hunch that he wanted to investigate when Dean got back.  
He practically jumps when his phone goes off, the noise loud in the relatively quiet station. He picks it up and flips it open, a frown appearing on his face at the text from Dean.  
Go out? Where would Dean want to go out? And why?

Castiel: Where would we be going?

He sets the phone down and begins to pack up, pulling on his overcoat and heading for the door, but not before making sure that the office was locked and lights shut off for the night.

~~~

Dean chuckles as he reads Castiel's message and lounges back onto the couch, texting back a short reply.

Dean: How about you just pick me up in 30 and we'll decide then?

With that he places his phone on the coffee table and gets up from the couch, stripping his clothes off as he makes his way over to the bathroom to take a shower. Afterwards he dresses in a maroon shirt and tight jeans and just when he ties his plain black shoes he hears a car pull up on the street in front of the building. Cas looks tired and Dean can't help thinking that this is his fault and despite the pang of guilt he feels strangely satisfied with that notion... It also looks like he didn't had much time to freshen up but the shirt he's wearing seems clean enough and he always appreciated the stubble and bed-hair over a cleanly shaven face and perfectly groomed shock of hair anyway. He steps outside, taking only his wallet and keys with him and he pulls Cas in a tight embrace. The thought of Patrick and what he did, what he not only lost but deliberately threw away is still burning red hot in the back of his mind. But there's also Cas' scent, the distinct note of his aftershave and something that he couldn't describe that's just Cas. And when Dean leans in to kiss him there's the bitter taste of balsamic vinegar from the salad he most certainly had for lunch and Dean drinks it in, closing his eyes in relief, his arms wrapped loosely around Castiel's neck.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” he whispers against Castiel's lips then, their noses bumping softly and Dean kisses him again, a peck, sweet and apologetically. “I missed you.”

~~~

Castiel is exhausted, and until Dean sent him the message he’d just been planning on going home and going to bed. That all changed the second he realized that Dean wanted to see him though, and he practically races to Dean’s house, getting there in record time. He realizes how eager he must seem in the last block though, and slows down enough that he parks without having to slam on the breaks, thankfully.

He gets out of his car just as Dean is coming down the walkway, and they embrace, just standing there, arms wrapped around one another for a moment. Castiel enjoys the warmth, the smell of Dean taking over his senses, and squeezes Dean once more before he backs away. The kiss that Dean gives him isn’t particularly desperate or need like others they’ve shared; somehow that makes it all the more intimate. It’s sweet and slow, and Castiel leans into it, opening up under Dean’s lips and tongue.

“…It’s okay Dean,” he replies in a husky voice, clearing his throat and then taking a step back.

“Where did you want to go?”

~~~

Still feeling the warmth of Cas' hands on his arms and back Dean licks his lips and leans back a little bit to return the quizzical gaze.

“I don't know, Catch One or Fubar maybe? I just felt like going out, forget about all the shit for a while...”

He sighs, averting his eyes to look down Castiel's body, lets his hands follow the trail of his eyes to rest them around Castiel's hips.

“Anywhere is fine, I just wanna spend some time with you.”

~~~

Castiel nods slowly, reaching up to pluck a piece of fuzz off of Dean’s shirt, smooth his hand over the fabric afterward. “Okay…,” he agrees readily, and then turns around and leads the way to his car, hesitating before opening the door for Dean. A flush hits his cheeks as he realizes how ridiculous that truly was, and he turns around on his heel to walk around to the other side of the car, leaving Dean to shut the door himself.

He felt out of sorts, as if acknowledging that he had feelings for Dean, and therefore he had something to lose, had put all the pressure in the world on him not to fuck this up. Castiel was having a hard time breathing, much less relaxing.

~~~

The sudden tension doesn't go unnoticed of course. Dean can't quite grasp what changed so quickly, why Castiel seems so different all of the sudden but thinking back to the other night and Castiel's reluctant promise to 'try' he thinks he might understand. They don't speak for a while, Dean occasionally muttering directions and when they reach the club, Dean hopes the silence had been enough for Castiel to calm down. Still his shoulders look tense as he gets out of the car and Dean clears his throat, taking off his jacket to leave it in the car before closing the door and stepping on the busy sidewalk.

Jewel's Catch One isn't the most glamorous location but Dean likes the music and the crowd, likes how there are all sorts of people and nobody seemed out of place. He doesn't know what Cas thinks about bars and clubs and he doesn't wanna ask, not now that they're both here. He wants to have a drink, to feel the thumpa thumpa pounding through his veins and he wants to dance, wants to blank out what had happened with Patrick and concentrate on the now, on Cas and him. So he grabs Castiel's hand, his fingers closing around the other man's slightly sweaty ones and pulls him across the sidewalk in the line in front of the club. It takes about 5 minutes for them to get past security and once they're in and the music gets louder and louder Dean feels the familiar excitement rushing through his whole body. But tonight would be different. He's not here to pick up some trick to have a meaningless one-night-stand, nor does he plan on getting a couple of strangers all hot and bothered and to buy him drinks, just to drop out early to go back home alone – he's here with Cas and he wants to spend the night with him, holding him, talking, laughing with him, buying him a drink or five... They make their way through the crowd to the bar where Dean gets them shots, shuddering at the bitter taste of the alcohol running down his throat. Leaning close to Castiel's ear to drown out the noise he says “Dance with me, Cas.”

~~~

Castiel follows Dean’s example and takes off his coat and his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and rolling up the long sleeves to his elbows. Even with the shirt still tucked up, he looked far more relaxed as he trails behind Dean up to the entrance. When Dean takes his hand Castiel is surprised, but he quickly goes with it, gripping Dean’s hand back just as tight. Security is easy tonight, and they get their hands stamped like everyone else, shuffling into the throbbing mass of a crowd that filled the club once they got inside.

He’s not even feeling the buzz of the shots that Dean gets them by the time his partner asks him to dance; the look of utter terror on his face should have been enough for Dean to get that Cas wasn’t really a dancer, but to Castiel’s dismay Dean merely smirks, and drags him out into the middle of the floor by his hand.

Cas is…lost, for a minute. But then something comes on with a good bass, deep and thumping, and he loses himself in Dean’s movements, the sway of those hips in his tight fitting clothing. Castiel gets shoved close to Dean by those around him, and he stutters out a ‘S-sorry!’, but can’t help the slight smile that comes to his face when his hands find first Dean’s waist, and then his ass, tugging until they’re close enough to practically ride the other’s thigh, hot and hard with muscle between each other’s legs.

~~~

To be honest he hadn't expected Cas to be this forceful. While sure, Cas had been topping in their relationship from the beginning, Dean just hadn't pegged him for a dirty dancer. But hell is he glad about being wrong. He closes his eyes as Cas keeps grinding their hips together, the soft moan drowning in the noise around them. The dance floor is almost claustrophobic cramped and Dean thinks he should feel uncomfortable, being as restricted as he is – but then Cas' hands travel over his body, quickly returning to grab his ass and pull him in closer and he kind of forgets how to breathe for a while. Time passes in a rush of colors and Cas' lips whispering against his temple; it's so loud and Dean's not sure what Cas is saying but he has a feeling it's nothing important anyway so he just leans into Castiel's touches and lets him breathe against his skin, stroking his fingers over the naked lower arms and slipping them under the hem of his shirt to brush against the smooth but firm belly.

~~~

Castiel is so hard it hurts by the time Dean’s fingers touch his stomach; the touch only makes it worse, spreading a fire through his abdomen that Dean’s body only seems to stoke with every slow grinding roll they manage to do together. Cas is fairly certain that Dean came here, specifically for this purpose, just to get them both drunk and loose enough to let go of anything they’d been holding onto.

He pulls away and nods toward the bar, needing another drink to keep the happy buzz going on in his head.

They struggle their way to the bar through the crowd, shoving up to a good spot, and Castiel orders two liquid cocaines, knowing that if they were only doing shots, he might as well go for the one that was pretty much guaranteed to fuck him up.

“Dean,” he yells close to Dean’s ear, which was basically club speak for whispering, “you don’t have to go home tonight if you don’t want to.”

~~~

He downs the drink Cas got him and motions for the barkeeper to bring another round, drinking it as well before licking his lips and leaning close to shout his reply.

“I want you to take me home and fuck me so hard I can't walk for a week.”

He grins then, nibbling at Cas' earlobe before leaning back again and watching the pleasant anticipation on Castiel's face.

“Later,” he then says and pulls Cas back up, slamming a couple of dollar bills on the counter before pushing back into the moving crowd again. It's not only that he doesn't want to leave yet or that they haven't danced enough – Dean enjoys this, feeling Cas all hard and hot against his body, so close and ready to let go but afraid or reluctant to do so; maybe both. He wants to experience this a little longer, the way he can feel Castiel's heart beat against his own chest and how he feels the music resonate through his lover's body. They're back in the middle of the dance floor and Dean laughs at the grumpy and slightly pained look on Castiel's face, pulling him in to palm his obvious erection through his pants.

~~~

Dean’s teasing was almost cruel, but Castiel lets him have it, pushing his hips against Dean’s hand when the man palms him. He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and gives in to the temptation the bare skin there provided, sucking and biting firm but gentle around a mouthful of skin. He knew he was leaving a hickey, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit in that moment.

Castiel whisper-shouts into Dean’s ear after a moment, pushing his hips close again in a slow rolling rhythm that matched the music.

“I thought we’d agreed that you were going to be the one to fuck me, next time around!”

He pulls back just enough to look into Dean’s eyes, and the slow quirked smile that comes to his face is absolutely filthy in conjunction with that statement.

~~~

Dean bites his lip at that, his mind involuntarily wandering back to the first and last time he'd been inside Castiel, do the debacle that his careless confession had caused. He quickly shakes his head as if to get rid of the bitter memories. They're here now and Cas wants to try and it's more Dean could have even hoped for so he leans close again and breathes “What are we waiting for then?” into his ear.

They're out of the club in a blink and as Cas tries to hail them a cab, Dean keeps mouthing at his neck, licking and biting over it. Somehow they manage to get their jackets from Cas' car and lock it, before tumbling inside the waiting cab and trying their very best not to devour each other in the back seat. Getting up the stairs to Cas' apartment is harder than it looks and the minute they're inside Dean slams the door shut, pressing Cas against it and all but ripping his shirt open to taste every inch of naked skin that he can reach. The mixture of sweat and smoke on his tongue is beyond hot and he groans, which sounds dull and muffled as his ears are still ringing from the noise at the club.

“I'm gonna fuck you,” Dean says, maybe a little too loud, and wraps his lips around one of Cas' nipples to suck hard “You were so tight, perfect- can't wait to fuck you, baby.”

The nickname tumbles over his lips without Dean having planned to use it. Hell, he never liked pet names, neither for other people nor himself. But he's drunk and so horny he thinks he's gonna explode every second and he loves, loves Cas so much his whole body aches for him. He'd tried to suppress this feeling, this longing, had tried to be happy with Patrick, let himself be loved wholly by someone else. But it all comes back to Cas. Cas is everything he thinks about, everything he wants and everything he needs. So he doesn't bother to apologize or try to cover up for the nickname, just kneels down in front of him, opening the button of his pants and pulling the zipper down with his teeth.

~~~

The ride back to his apartment is hard to handle, Dean’s hands on his body, his lips playing Castiel’s skin like an instrument, tuned just to Dean’s touch. He’s rock hard in his slacks, and so damn close to coming when the other man shoves him up against the front door that he has to bite the inside of his cheek until he tastes metallic blood to stop himself.

“Dean,” Cas pants, gasping when Dean’s lips wrap around his nipple, when Dean shoves his pants down to his thighs, his boxer briefs ripped down right afterward. Cas’ cock springs free, heavy, thick and red tipped, the foreskin sliding back neatly when Dean wraps a hand around him. Castiel chokes on a word that’s instantly forgotten, the pleasure and heat of Dean’s hand too much for him to enjoy and think at the same time.

“Fuck,” Cas cusses, soft and under his breath, his hands diving into Dean’s short hair to tickle his palms as they skate through the strands. He wanted more though, and lets out a grunt as he jerks at Dean’s head, trying to get him closer to his cock. Dean’s lips looked like heaven, and if Castiel was remembering correctly, they felt like it too.

“Please..please Dean, need it. Need more.”

~~~

Even if he wanted to Dean wouldn't be able to refuse anything Cas asked him for at this point. They're so hard, both of them shaking with pure need and to be frank Dean had felt like he was coming ever since they entered the club. So he isn't very keen on waiting any longer himself. Somehow they make it to the bedroom and Dean tries to wrap his head around how this would be the first time they would do it on a bed but it's too much. They tumble down together, the sheets tangle around their limbs and for a moment he's breathless at the sight of Cas beneath him, gasping and staring back at him in awe.

He wraps one of his hands around Cas' shaft then and takes him without hesitation, his head bobbing as his tongue works around the whole length. He's not wasting much time either, pulling his head back suddenly and replacing Cas' cock with his own fingers, sucking and licking until they're dripping wet, before returning to suck him off again, as his fingers find their way around Castiel's body and press inside of him, one by one. Crooking and scissoring them he works them in and out of his lover's body, eliciting the sweetest sounds each and every time. They're so close, both of them, and Cas is squirming beneath him, begging, sobbing. So Dean gasps out “Protection?” and after Cas' breathless reply scrambles to his feet, hurrying to the bathroom to get condoms and lube. Cas' fingers around his cock are cool and Dean winces slightly at first but then they're stroking up and down his length, coating it in slick gel and the next thing he knows is Cas is on his back and his legs are up on Dean's shoulders and he's sinking back into that tight heat and he feels like he's gonna pass out it's so perfect.

~~~

Castiel has a split second to be glad he’d put everything of Balthazar’s away, and then Dean is inside him, and everything in the entire world fades away but Dean, and their connection. He lets go of everything he’s feel but the stretch and burn, the delicious pulling he feels inside of his body. Dean is perfect, Castiel is sure of it now, at least when they’re like this, and Cas can give up and give in to the feelings he’s been avoiding for so many months now.

“Oh god-DEAN!” He gasps out, crying out his lover’s name, the push perfect in so many ways. He can feel the strain of his asshole, the quiver in his thighs from the exertion. Tomorrow he would be sore in so many places, but for tonight he was too caught up to care. Dean is gorgeous above him, framed in a halo of light from the table lamp, glowing almost, and he smiles at Castiel and Castiel loses his breath.

“Gorgeous,” he gasps, hands coming up quickly to wrap around the back of Dean’s neck, tug him down for a hungry kiss. Cas didn’t want to let this go, and he wouldn’t, ever, if he could just figure out how to not be so scared of losing it all the time.

“Dean please…harder…need you hard,” he begs, his eyes wild as he stares up at his lover, shoves his hips onto Dean, fucks himself on the cock impaling him.

~~~

He doesn't last long and neither does Cas. Just a dozen strong, sharp thrusts and Dean is coming, his cock throbbing deep inside of his lover. He slumps down onto Cas, his arms so very weak and the friction is just enough to send Cas over the edge as well. They lie like this for a moment and when Dean pulls back and out they both let out a long-stretched moan. Dean slops down on his belly right next to Cas, one arm across his lover's chest as he tries to catch his breath again.

“Jesus,” Dean says because right now this is literally all he can say.

Everything seems so dull, so unnecessary compared to how he feels, compared to what they just did means.

~~~

Castiel is seeing stars, the world kind of skewed and off its normal axis. Dean Winchester was beyond anything he’d ever hoped to have again, after he’d lost Balthazar. Dean was so much more, in so many ways, that Castiel felt sick with guilt for even thinking it. But he knew it was true.

As much as he loved Balthazar, for all of his beautiful imperfections and crazy spontaneity…he loved Dean more.

He loved Dean’s beautiful smile, and his laugh. He loved his loyalty and generosity, the way he gave and gave until there was nothing left for himself. He loved how stubborn Dean was, matched only by himself. He loved the way Dean’s family came first in almost everything, how he managed to keep it all together, no matter what happened. He loved Dean’s bravery, his kindness, his sense of humor and his arrogance.

Castiel loved Dean, and it took almost losing him to someone else to see it.

He rolls head to the side and stares at Dean for a moment, shaking his head minutely when Dean asks if something’s wrong.

“Nothing….everything’s perfect, Dean,” he says softly, before shifting to lean over Dean and kiss him, long and slow, his hand cupping the side of the other man’s face.

“Stay?” he asks softly, eyebrows arching up as he searches Dean’s eyes with his own.

~~~

He sees the thoughts running through Castiel's mind, watches them twist and turn inside of his head and come to a halt when he reaches out to stroke a hand over Castiel's cheek and whispers “You ok?”

Although he couldn't agree more about everything being wonderful and right for the first time in months, Dean feels worry rising up inside of him. Fear that whatever it is that Cas is thinking about could ruin this, destroy them. He licks his lips before nodding, cuddling closer to the other man and wrapping both of his arms around his body.

“You're not getting rid of me tonight, you'd have to kick me out yourself,” he mumbles and drinks in the low chuckle that comes as a response, his lips brushing over Castiel's lips, his chin, his neck.

He's never been the biggest fan of cuddling, at least he never admitted to it, but this is nice. Just him and Cas, being close, sharing the same bed, breathing the same air, just looking at each other, absentmindedly touching each other's bodies, mapping them out languidly. Eventually Dean groans and mutters “Shower. Now.” before lifting himself up and out of the bed and holding out a hand for Cas to take. Cas leads the way into his neat bathroom, all chrome and glass and they step under the hot jet of water with a blissful sigh.

~~~

“Not going to kick you out,” he mumbles into the crook of Dean’s neck, breathing in the strong smell that was concentrated there. Dean smelled so good. It was wrong, or maybe really really right, but just inhaling his scent made Castiel edge toward arousal again, the tingling in his belly starting up once more.

“Shower,” he agrees when Dean speaks, sighing as he takes his partner’s hand and crawls off the bed after him. The shower was newer, the rest of the building easily built in the 1970s..but the shower had been replaced. Castiel was thankful, because, although they both barely fit into it now, he knew they wouldn’t have before it had been replaced a year ago.

There’s a memory that comes to mind then, him and Balthazar christening the new shower, Castiel pressing Balthazar face first into the tile wall, fucking him so slow and tender that Balthazar weeped. He swallows the melancholy down and turns to Dean, to wrap his arms around the man’s waist and pull him in for a watery kiss, the stream from the shower spraying over them exactly what Castiel needs to soothe away old memories.

They had no place here, not when Dean was in his arms. Balthazar had been a huge part of his life, and would always be a part of his heart. But Dean was the most important person now and Castiel wasn’t going to let his past get in the way of that. Not anymore.

~~~

He sees the look on Castiel's face and all he wants is to kiss it away, whisper promises into his ear about how everything is going to be okay and that he would never leave him. Instead they do it again, Cas' lips wrapping around Dean's cock until he's hard again and Dean lifting the slightly smaller man up to fuck him against the wall, wiping that look of grief and regret off his face for at least another half an hour. When they step out, all clean and warm and spent, Cas wraps him into a huge towel and dries him off carefully. The scars marking his body still ache and Dean sucks in a sharp breath when Cas puts the towel to one of the deeper cuts in his abdomen. Afterward they tumble back in bed, Cas pulling him in until their naked bodies are pressing against each other and Dean can hear the blood running through his lover's veins.

Lover. It's a word he has to get used to first. They had been lovers before, companions in bed, indulging in a sweet, forbidden passion. They're lovers again now but it's different, it's more. There's a bond Dean deep down knows had been there from the beginning. But now that Cas is actually letting Dean in and giving himself permission to feel again, Dean wonders if the word 'lovers' could be enough to describe what's between them. He'd always hated the word 'boyfriend' because it sounds hollow and petty and it's utterly unworthy of their relationship. As he hides his face under Castiel's chin he decides that this is something he would have to figure out some other time, preferably together with Cas. For now he would have to be content with not labeling whatever they have.


	18. Prove Everyone Wrong, Even Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big update! more exciting stuff to come in the next chapter too ;)

Castiel falls asleep that night wrapped up around Dean; the dreams he has are warm and comforting, everything full of golden light and a feeling that all was right with the world. He wakes with a start, eyes blinking in the still darkness, staring up at the ceiling until the room comes into focus.

Dean is still wrapped around him, an octopus of warm, sleep dead arms and legs. He’s drooling on Castiel’s shoulder, and the surge of pure affection that Cas feels in that moment rocks him, steals his breath away. Drool on your shoulder shouldn’t make you feel like you love that person that much more… but it did. He carefully extricates himself from the bed, and then pulls on a shirt and boxer briefs, before heading down the hall to the kitchen. It’s only 6am…so there’s plenty of time to make breakfast, and figure out what he was going to do about the fact that he had, yet again, fallen in love with his partner.

Castiel starts the coffee brewing and cracks open the fridge, taking out piles of ingredients. He ends up making waffles and bacon, eggs, hash browns, and a yogurt parfait. Half of it is inedible, the hash browns burnt beyond recognition, and the eggs full of gross bits of crunchy shell. He tosses them in the trash, and puts the actually edible food on the table, covering the bacon and waffles with large bowls face down to keep them warm while he goes to wake up Dean.

Which proves almost impossible. He stands in the doorway for ten minutes, just watching Dean sleep, the expression on his face so peaceful that Castiel can’t bring himself to wake him up; eventually he wanders over and crawls back onto the bed, laying down on his back and turning his head just so he can keep staring at the man who’d managed to crack his heart open and burrow inside. Dean was the best kind of burr, prickly and stubborn, unwilling to let Castiel just toss away what they’d been building, before Cas had shut it down without thinking about the consequences. He reaches out in a moment of silence and brushes his fingers along Dean’s hand, touching the freckled skin there, the wrinkles around his knuckles just starting to show that Dean was aging.

“Dean…wake up Dean.”

~~~

Dean grunts. The soft and quiet voice beckoning him to wake up is gentle but nevertheless an intruder, destroying the blissful silence of his sleep. He rolls around, pulling the blanket up and over his head with a grumbled “..mnot yet” and it actually gets him another ten or twenty seconds of quiet. Then a hand is curling into his hair and a nose nuzzles against his neck and warm breath is puffing out and tickling him. Eventually Dean lets Castiel pull off the blanket again and cracks open one eye, the frown on his face obvious proof of his disapproval. The feather light kiss that is pressed on his lips next though is at least a little compensation for being woken up at all. He sits up then, stretching his arms above his head, an extensive yawn making the world all muffled for a moment. Cas is smiling at him like he just won the lottery and for a second there Dean actually wants to ask him what the fuck's wrong with him. He stops himself though. No, he's not a morning person, not even a tiny bit. But after years of bad decisions and strained relationships he'd come to the conclusion to never do or say anything important before the first cup of coffee in the morning.

“Hey,” he mumbles instead, rubbing the back of his neck sleepily.

~~~

“I made breakfast,” he says softly, the smile coming back to his lips afterward. Dean was adorable, almost cat-like, in the morning.

Castiel can’t believe that he’s missed this, all those times he ran out afterward. Never again.

“There’s waffles and bacon….,” he traces his fingers along Dean’s jawline, the stubble there tickling the pads of his fingers. “And coffee, of course.”

Castiel kisses Dean again, briefly, and then stands up off the bed.

“Come out when you’re ready…but just so you know, they’re going to get cold.”

~~~

The promise of food of course has Dean up and awake almost instantly. He stumbles over to where he'd dropped his shorts the night before and puts them on quickly, before following Cas outside to the kitchen where breakfast is already waiting. They sit down across each other and Dean lifts the cup of steaming hot coffee to enjoy the smell for a moment before he takes a small sip that, of course, burns his tongue. He curses under his breath and reaches for the glass of water Cas hands him. The waffles aren't the best he'd ever tasted but Cas made them and the more Dean thinks about it, the better they taste. He's actually here, at Cas' place, wearing only his shorts and having breakfast with the man that saved his life, the man he's completely and hopelessly in love with. He pauses at that notion, lowering his fork to watch Cas for a while, until the other man looks up from where he'd been busy cutting his bacon in small strips and putting them on top of the waffles.

“I could get used to that,” he says and Cas looks up and smiles back at him.

After he stuffed everything on his plate into his mouth, Dean gets up and puts his dishes in the sink, before walking back to stand beside Castiel's chair. He waits until the other man notices to pull back the chair a bit and sit down on his partner's lap, taking the fork from Castiel's hand and guiding it toward his mouth with a cheeky grin.

“Now, open up wide.”

~~~

Castiel isn’t sure what Dean’s talking about, when he says that he could get used to ‘that’, but he supposes it doesn’t matter. Anything where Dean is getting used to something of Castiel’s, and smiling about it, well, Castiel would take it. He looks up again when Dean walks up to him, eyes wide at the look on Dean’s face.

They go even wider though when Dean climbs onto his lap, and actually feeds him, almost like a child. He arches one brow while his lips close around the tines of the fork.

“I can feed myself, Dean,” he deadpans, once the fork is out of his mouth, but doesn’t voice any further complaint when Dean feeds him another syrupy bite. They continue like this for a while, until Castiel’s waffle is gone, and the fork is replaced with Dean’s lips. Kissing like this is intimate, more so than hurried gropes and fevered kisses in a club.

This was the morning after, when they still had sleep crust in their eyes and bed head, mouths sticky with syrup; and yet Castiel can’t stop the smile that comes to his face as he kisses Dean back, his arms wrapping around the other man’s waist and tugging him as close as possible. The words ‘I love you’ bubble up inside of him, and he desperately wants to say it. The moment is perfect for it, a lazy Sunday morning, the smell of breakfast still hanging in the air.

But Castiel doesn’t. He holds back, unsure if Dean would believe he was telling the truth, or worse yet, think that Castiel thought he was telling the truth, but actually was deluding himself into believing it…so he holds onto the thought, and shouts it internally, expressing it to Dean in the form of a tight hold around his back, soft sighs against his lips.

~~~

They spend the rest of the day doing absolutely nothing. It started raining around noon but even if it hadn't Dean would have been completely fine with staying at home. They lounge on the couch, Dean sandwiched between Castiel's legs, a blanket wrapped around their bodies as they watch lame daytime TV and reruns of 'How I Met Your Mother'. He doesn't tire of telling Cas about how Neil Patrick Harris is one of the most amazing people in the world, how he absolutely adores his and David Burtka's relationship and even tells him about that one time when he'd spent the 4th of July at Disneyland with his family and actually saw the actor having lunch with his husband. Dean's not sure what Castiel thinks about all that but the other man listens with a constant soft smile on his face and whether or not he actually cares, Dean feels like it doesn't really matter anyway. Around six they order Chinese take-out and transform Castiel's living-room in a wasteland of small boxes and used chop sticks. After they sleep together again, the taste of orange chicken still on their tongues and the steady noise of rain drops against the window. Dean whispers Castiel's name in his ear over and over when Cas is lying on top of him, his fingers tightening around the other man's arms possessively. They make it back to the bedroom somehow and Dean crawls close, his hand on Castiel's naked chest.

“You never told me about your parents,” he says quietly, drawing small circles on the warm skin “I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to...I'm just curious...”

~~~

The day is like something out of Castiel’s daydreams. They do nothing all day long, and yet it’s the perfect day. They don’t argue at all, except over how many egg rolls they’re going to need (Dean ends up eating one of Castiel’s, but it works out because he gives Castiel his fortune cookie), and once again, the sex is amazing. Cas is happier than he’s been in over half a year; the last time he felt this content, Balthazar had been alive.

He pushes the thoughts away once again, but it’s not a violent shoving as it had been in the past. This time, it’s more just a gentle shooing. He acknowledges to himself that he’s probably going to compare the two men in his head for some time, and yet, Dean keeps coming out on top. He’s startled out of his thoughts when Dean speaks after a long moment of easy silence.

“What?...oh…My parents aren’t around. They weren’t really around when I was little, either. My Mother was depressed and worked three jobs to support the family, and my Father was an alcoholic. When he was around, it was only to get more money, and maybe hit her around.”

He shrugs, the smile on his face more a grimace than anything else.

“I don’t talk about them much for a reason, Dean. She died when I was 15, and he just…left. Found another woman to mooch off of. Gabriel was old enough to take care of me and Anna by then, so he did. He’d half older annoying brother, and half Father figure to me,” he mumbles, shifting slightly, a flush hitting his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was feeling embarrassed, he’d come to terms with his fucked up family years ago.

~~~

Castiel blushes and Dean suddenly feels torn between finding it absolutely adorable and feeling tremendously guilty.

“'m sorry,” he mumbles, pulling Cas close and kissing the frown off his face gently “You can have my parents, if you want to,” he then jokes and Cas looks up at him in mild shock until Dean shrugs and laughs “If we stay tog-..I mean, if we spend more time like this they'll gonna wanna see you more often as well anyway and you've met my bunch, they're pretty persuasive when it comes to mothering and including people into the family.”

After a while Cas just huffs out a laugh and nods and Dean pulls him into a soft kiss, whispering “Sorry” and “They can be a pain in the ass but you're gonna love it, promise” against his lips. They talk some more after that, about Sam and Jo, Anna and Gabriel. It turns out that Castiel hadn't had the best relationship with his siblings for a long while until sometime this year and Dean wonders why that is but feels like this isn't the time to ask about it. So he talks about his brother and sister and ignores the teasing words about how he raves about them. Once more they fall asleep close to each other, nose against nose, breathing the same air and Dean feels positively love-sick.

On Sunday he drags Cas to Venice Boardwalk and they spend the day strolling around, eating ice cream, watching the artists and listening to the musicians. At sunset they sit down outside a small restaurant and order Burger and fries for Dean and a Turkey sandwich for Cas.

~~~

Castiel finds that once he’s stopped fighting it, being with Dean is easier than anything he’s ever experienced. They do bicker back and forth over minor things throughout the day, but it always ends with someone cracking a joke, and compromise, and strangely no hurt feelings or grudges held. He knows that this is a rare thing, to find someone so easy to get along with, and if he hangs onto Dean’s hand a little tighter while they walk around the boardwalk then it’s no one’s business but his.

Sunset brings more good food, and conversation that drifts from exercise to guns to their favorite music. There, again, is another difference.

“Classical music is /not/ boring Dean. You just need to have the patience to get to understand and appreciate it,” Castiel says with a frown, plucking another fry from Dean’s plate and munching on it in irritation.

Dean snorts and rolls his eyes, and Castiel sputters, only to flush when Dean grins at him.

“I know Cas…I’m not stupid, man, I enjoy a good Beethoven’s fifth just like the next guy…I just prefer Kansas is all.”

“…Oh.”

“Do /you/ ever listen to anything besides classical?”

Castiel flushes and licks his lips, looking down at the table and shrugging.

“Don’t laugh…but,…I like Lady Gaga…”

Dean’s laughter makes the people at the tables surrounding theirs startle, and causes Castiel to cover his face with his hands and groan.

~~~

Granted, he'd half-assed promised not to laugh but there's absolutely no way on earth Dean would have ever suspected anything like this. Favoring classical music is one thing but on the other hand enjoying crazy meatsuit Lady Auto Tune another. It takes him about five minutes to stop laughing and by the time he's done Cas is reduced to a slumped picture of misery, his head lowered and glowing bright red. Most people gave up throwing disapproving looks at them but a group of young people a few tables over is still looking at them interestedly. Dean doesn't let that bother him and pushes back his chair to crouch next to Castiel's, taking the other man's hands into his and waiting until he actually meets his eyes.

“I'm horrible, I know,” he mumbles and smiles apologetically, kissing Castiel's hands softly “But you gotta admit that's some fucked up taste you got there.”

This earns him a playful nudge that makes him stumble backwards and when he lands on his ass, Cas' lips curl into a small smile again.

They stroll down to the beach later and Dean doesn't complain when Castiel pushes him down into the sand and kisses him hungrily. They're not alone on the promenade but the other couples seem fairly preoccupied themselves, so Dean lets Cas lick his mouth open readily. They take a cab back to Castiel's place after midnight and despite the restrained groping in the back seat they fall into bed without any ulterior motives, cuddling close and falling asleep with the smell of the ocean still on their clothes.

~~~

Castiel wakes up the next morning and starts a pot of coffee before showering, only waking Dean up once they absolutely had to leave, or they wouldn’t have time to go back to Dean’s so he could change clothes.

“Dean, coffee.” Castiel sets a cup next to Dean with the right amount of sugar and cream in it, before turning around again to get dressed, his wet towel hung up in the bathroom. He pulls on black briefs and an undershirt before wandering toward his closet to pick out a suit to put on.

~~~

Mornings are always hard and as Dean rolls out of bed he regrets not having savored the wonderful weekend mornings more, when now all they have is a rushed coffee before work. He showers as well and puts on his sandy, dusty clothes before leaving Castiel's apartment. Cas drives him over to his place and despite Dean telling him to come up with him he waits for him in the car. So Dean puts on a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt and hurries back downstairs again. At least three different people ask him if he's hungover that day so that must mean he looks like shit. Actually he feels okay enough but the thoughts of the weekend and how there would be five long work days before the next tortures him.

For the next two weeks Dean feels like nothing could ever go wrong again. Cas and him are happy, Jesus, he'd never thought he would ever be able to say that. They spend the nights with each other more and more, either Dean going home with Cas or Cas dropping by late at night at Dean's place. Also, as predicted, as soon as Ellen gets wind of the reignited flame between them, she demands invite Cas to join their Thanksgiving family dinner and “it's gonna be fan-fucking-tastic and I won't take 'no' as an answer, young man!”

When Dean checks his mails on Friday afternoon while Cas is out getting donuts he's more than a little surprised at Patrick's name showing up. The mail is short but surprisingly warm and Dean feels another pang of guilt as he reads it, a sad smile curling his lips.

Dean,

I know we didn't part friends and I am not sure how you're going to react to this message. I still wanted to let you know that I'm not mad at you or Novak. I've seen how he looks at you and vice versa and yes, it breaks my heart that I can't be the one to make you feel like that. But I wish you all the happiness, both of him.

-Patrick

~~~

Castiel had practically been on cloud 9 the last two weeks, his days filled with leads that were slowly building toward something solid and real for once, his nights filled with Dean. It was incredibly easy to get lost in Dean’s eyes as they made love, or fucked, or anything in between. He couldn’t even attempt to deny it now, not with Dean sobbing his name out beneath him as Castiel rocked inside of him.  It was love, spread between them like a vibrating golden string, constantly growing and changing with them.

Ellen’s  no-nonsense invitation is actually a surprise, at least to Cas. Dean had warned him, but Cas hadn’t taken it seriously; after all, he and Dean had just started to really date one another…the past four months were a kind of gray area. He accepts though, on the condition that he gets to invite his sister and brother, because he wasn’t going to go another Thanksgiving without them. When Ellen eagerly agrees, Castiel can’t explain to Dean why he goes silent, and simply hangs up the phone with a soft ‘Thank you’, ending the conversation with Dean’s Mother on a good note.

Everything had been going so remarkably well, in fact, that Castiel is a little startled to see the look of sadness and worry on Dean’s face when he gets back with coffee and more donuts.

“Dean?” he walks over, offering the cup of coffee to Dean with one hand, the other still clutching the pink bakery box.

“Are you alright?”

~~~

He's startled out of his reverie by Cas entering the office and quickly takes the cup he's offered to take a small sip of the hot beverage. He then motions for Cas to walk around his desk and have a look on the monitor, which is something Cas rarely does these days, the memory of that fight about reading personal emails at work too fresh. Dean watches his lover read the message and by the end there's a frown on Castiel's face. So he puts the coffee back on the desk and reaches out, both of his hands closing around Castiel's lower arm and pulling him in.

“He seems sincere,” Dean says carefully, not daring to avert his eyes from his partner's face for a second.

This is a more than delicate matter. They never really talk about it but it's an unspoken truth that Castiel had been deadly jealous and hurt by Dean dating Patrick so openly and right under his nose. Every time they kiss Dean can feel the flicker of doubt, the fear that maybe, some day he couldn't be enough anymore. Dean gets up then, pulling Cas closer until their noses bump and he can brush his lips over the corners of his mouth.

“I told you, I didn't love him,” he whispers and licks his lips, searching Castiel's eyes for signs of understanding, of belief “You gotta trust me, Cas...You're the only one for me.”

~~~

Castiel is more than a little wary about the idea of Patrick continuing to correspond with Dean. What if Dean changes his mind, and decides that Patrick is the better, more stable option? What if Patrick manages to win Dean over with his good looks and charming personality? Castiel wasn’t stupid, he knew he was attractive…but Patrick was boyish charm and smiles, while he was brooding and stoic natured. Begrudgingly, he had to admit to himself that on the outside, Patrick was a better fit for Dean.

Of course, Dean can read Cas like a book, his emotions laid bare before the other man even as he tries to swallow them down.

‘ _You gotta trust me, Cas…You’re the only one for me.’_

The words are so filled with sincerity that they make his chest tighter, and Castiel is helpless to stop the overwhelming feeling of rightness in the moment as he clings to Dean, brushes his lips back over Dean’s own.

“I believe you believe that Dean,” he sighs, kissing Dean again before he can voice a complaint about Castiel’s words. He pulls back after a moment and offers Dean a shy smile, shrugging gently.

“If you want to continue speaking with Patrick, I am alright with it. I trust you.”

The strange part was that he did. Over the past few months they had been many things to one another; partner, friend, fuck buddy, lover…and through them all Dean had never lied to him, led him astray. Castiel nods his head toward the donuts.

“Got you your favorites,” he says with a slightly wider smile, pleased with himself for succeeding even in something so small. Every little bit he could prove himself worthy he would jump at. He had a lot of proving to do.

~~~

Castiel's words are a bit of a surprise to Dean and for a moment he's tempted to ask if he's serious about this, if he's aware of who they're talking about. But Cas trusts him. He says it and he does mean it, Dean knows. And it's an incredible feeling, a warmth spreading through his whole body, making his fingertips tingle and the tiny hair in the back of his neck stand. So he doesn't question Castiel, takes the donut with a small smile and devours half of it with a look of sheer satisfaction, licking the cream filling off his lips before pulling Cas in to share the taste.

Despite Castiel's eager approval of Dean keeping contact with his ex-boyfriend, it takes the younger man a couple of days to find the courage to even consider it, let alone figure out how to respond. He ends up telling Patrick that he's sorry and that he wishes he could take back the things he did to make him unhappy. He also thanks him for being so understanding and that he couldn't imagine being able to be so calm and reasonable about something like this. They end up writing each other at least twice a week and sometimes its paragraphs of forgiving words while others it's a short message about the most trivial things.

Dean takes care to never hide those messages from Castiel, always leaving his computer on and available. Still he can't shake the feeling that it might be a little too much to ask for. Patrick agrees when Dean asks him to keep the conversation to a minimum and it's why it startles him even more when one day Cas picks up the phone at the office only to look up at Dean in mild shock, mouthing 'Patrick'.

Cas nods a few times, his sour face more and more lighting up and as he scribbles information on a tiny notepad, Dean wonders what the hell this could be about ('Please don't tell him about that one time you made me wear panties...'). When Cas puts the phone down he instantly rips the piece of paper off, stuffing it into his pocket and searching his trench coat at the rack for god knows what.

“What was that about?”

But Cas doesn't seem to notice him, so Dean steps closer, grabbing his sleeve until the other man turns to look at him.

“Cas, what's going on?”

~~~

Cas slips on his trench coat and adjusts the collar, before finally turning to Dean, the smile on his face almost blinding.

“Patrick has a break in the case for us. We’re going to Sacramento. Grab your things, Dean, I need to go get approval from the Chief for our flights.”

He leaves the office in a hurry, and is back five minutes later with an approval for two coach tickets on the very next flight out of LA, which would be in…forty minutes.

“We have to get to LAX, now,” Castiel says as he leads the way outside and to the car, before hesitating slightly, and then tossing Dean the keys.

“You drive. You’re faster than I am anyway,” he says with a smirk, before slipping into the Hyundai that was thankfully waiting on the curb. It was extremely lucky parking considering how long it usually took to get out of the garage.

They make it to the airport with only ten minutes to spare before liftoff, their car parked in short term parking and remarkably straight in its spot considering how fast Dean had gotten them in there. They’re the last two to board the plane, shouting apologies and thank you’s to the staff as they run down the ramp, a surly looking man rolling his eyes, before closing the door behind them. Castiel stops when a flight attendant holds up a hand and looks at their tickets, frowning to herself before going to talk to the captain. As it turns out, the coach seats were overbooked, and Dean and Castiel are plopped down in first class with a genuine smile from the previously frowning woman.

The plane rumbles down the runway, and they both buckle in, no luggage to store overhead, as they hadn’t had time to pack in their rush.

Cas rolls his eyes when Dean asks for a drink, but unfortunately, the male attendant tell Dean that they can’t serve him anything until the fasten the seatbelt sign is turned off; he and the other attendant buckle themselves into their drop down seats as the plane starts to race down the runway. Castiel snorts behind his hand at the look of shock and horror on Dean’s face, until he realizes that the whiskey is for nerves, not kicks.

He holds Dean’s hand tight after that, and whispers soothing words against his hair as Dean clings to his jacket, eyes squeezed tightly shut as they take off and into the air, Sacramento just a short flight away.

~~~

He hates this. Squeezing Castiel's hand so tight he might have bruises or some broken bones later, Dean yearns to be outside, on the ground, preferably on the road with his baby. But this is business and its urgent, that much Cas had told him on the road. Patrick's division had tracked down a branch of Azazel's organization and they'd been able to take half a dozen of his men in custody. Apart from that they also managed to free over 30 people they'd held in ridiculously tiny cells. Dean had glanced at the print out of the condensed report, biting his lip as Cas read of most of them being underage and in a horrible shape. It would take days if not weeks until they would be able to make a statement and help with sketches of their tormentors. The flight takes a little more than one hour and a half and by the time the seatbelt signs are turned off, Dean is on his feet in an instant, pushing his way through the narrow aisle, past several complaining business men and women. He can barely breathe and when the flight attendant opens the door he's the first to barge out, stumbling up the carpeted ramp and onto the safe, solid floor of the airport boarding area. He waits for Cas by the small tram that would take the passengers to the terminal, trying to get his breathing under control again. He doesn't meet Castiel's eyes and is thankful, when the other man simply takes his hand and leads him past the luggage claim and outside with nothing but a quiet 'You're alright, you made it.'

A police officer picks them up outside and Dean's never been happier in his life to sit in the backseat of a car, watching the houses rush past as they make their way to the Northern Side of the city. Patrick is already waiting for them, clad in a leather jacket and wearing aviators, leaning against his car as he talks to a colleague. When he spots the two of them his face lights up for a second before he seems to remember that this is not what it used to be. He approaches them, extending his hand to shake both of theirs; Dean is not sure if the queasy feeling in his stomach is still from the flight or from the strangeness of treating Patrick so different to the many times before. Patrick guides them through two police checks, underneath yellow 'crime scene' tape and into the warehouse. The smell inside is beyond anything Dean had ever experienced and when Patrick shows them the part where the victims had been held, he has to excuse himself. It's not like he's got a weak stomach or that he's too delicate to handle crime scenes. But while the flight had done its part and he generally hated seeing things humanity was able to do to one another, it's the memories of his own captivity that tips him over the edge. Outside he rounds the building, sinking down to his knees and heaving until there's nothing but dry coughs.

They ride back to the Sacramento precinct and while Cas doesn't take his hand, he sits close to him, their shoulders bumping and strangely it's all Dean needs to feel a lot better. The precinct is busy and Dean suspects this is not the usual routine for officers here. They each get a pile of three files and Dean scans over the names and faces. He knows he's seen all of them before, even indistinctly remembers some of their names, but it's different now. They're no longer part of an untraceable, untouchable shadow organization. They're here, they're under arrest and they wouldn't be able to talk themselves out of this anymore, not with all the evidence they piled up, not with being caught in the act and all the testimonies.

They spend the afternoon interrogating Azazel's folks and by the time the sky outside darkens, Dean is exhausted and, despite the late hour, so damn ready for a coffee. The bad guys didn't spill as much as Dean had hoped but it would have to be enough for today. There are still 30 people who would be able to bring a little more light into the dark and maybe, just maybe, one of them would give them a crucial lead. Castiel is still interrogating when Dean slumps down in the common room at the Sacramento PD and if his eyes fall shut after another fifteen minutes of waiting who could blame him?

~~~

Castiel shakes Dean gently awake around 11pm that night, his face hovering over Dean’s, a smile coming to his lips as Dean jolts awake under his touch.

“Come on Dean, Patrick set us up with a hotel nearby,” he murmurs, taking the time to brush a bit of Dean’s  hair back from his face, where it had been smashed from his awkward sleeping position. He waits until Dean manages to struggle upright, groaning at his sore muscles, before they head outside and to the waiting car, Patrick at the wheel. He helps Dean to get into the backseat and isn’t surprised when he slumps over once again, exhausted despite his three hour nap. Cas takes the front seat, beside Patrick, and buckles in as the other man pulls the car out of its spot and onto the street, headed down toward the Best Western that he knew was just a mile or so away.

“So…you and Dean?” Patrick says softly when they pull up to a stoplight, after checking that Dean was once again asleep in the backseat. Castiel nods once, firm, and turns his head to look at Patrick.

“Yes. We are together. I…am sorry, that you were hurt during our…misunderstanding.”

“Oh, really? Is that all it was?” Patrick says after a moment, arching a brow before slowly pressing on the gas as the light turns green. Castiel frowns and licks his lips, nervous to be talking to Patrick like this, basically alone with Dean asleep in the back seat.

“Yes. There was a misunderstanding between Dean and I…I wasn’t…sure, what I wanted, and Dean was very sure of what he needed…the compromise didn’t work for him.”

Patrick pulls into the parking lot and rolls the car to a stop at the entrance to the hotel. He keeps the engine running but puts it in park, turning his whole body to look at Castiel, his expression serious as he stares at the other Detective for a long, silent moment.

“Are you done compromising, Castiel?” he asks slowly.

Castiel nods, lips pressed together thin. “Yes.”

“Good.”

“Dean is very important to me, Patrick.”

“I can tell that. He’s important to me too.”

“…Are you going to try to separate us?” Castiel asks softly, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

Patrick seems to think about it, tilting his head to the side for a moment, before he shakes it.

“No. I’m not. You’re what Dean wants…whether it’s healthy or not, and I can’t change his mind for him.”

“…You don’t think I’m good for him,” Castiel breathes out, surprise showing up on his features.

Patrick narrows his eyes at Castiel.

“No. I don’t…”

Dean moves in the backseat, and both men startle slightly as he yawns. Castiel gets out of the front seat then, and walks to the back door, opening it and helping Dean out with a little trouble. Both doors are shut, and Castiel thanks Patrick for the ride through the open window.

“Castiel?” Patrick calls, causing Castiel to stop moving and bend down slightly to look through the window again.

“Yes?”

“…Prove me wrong,” Patrick says, the sad smile on his face genuine, and Castiel realizes in that moment exactly what Dean had seen in Patrick. He nods again, and Patrick nods back, pulling away from the hotel and leaving Castiel standing there, an arm wrapped around a still-sleepy Dean. He stares after Patrick until the taillights disappear around a corner, and then he walks them inside, picking up the keys for their room. The queen size bed that Patrick had reserved for them also speaks volumes, and Castiel helps Dean to sit down on it with a silent Thank You sent the other Detective’s way.

Sleep comes quickly to both of them, after Castiel helps Dean to undress, and strips himself as well. He curls up around Dean under the scratchy hotel sheets, and promises himself that he’ll be good for Dean, just as good as Dean’s been for him.


	19. The Blonde Firecracker

It's embarrassing how fast Dean falls asleep that night. The drive had done nothing but make him even more tired and while he could swear he heard his name being mentioned more than once he can't bring up enough strength to wonder or actually care about it. He simply yawns and sighs when Cas pulls the blanket over them and wraps his arms around him and he falls asleep thinking how goddamn lucky he is.

The next day brings paperwork. Lots and lots of it. There's more information on the guys they arrested the day before, also data following up the leads they'd given them so far. Today is also the day they planned to start questioning the witnesses. There were about 15 people who had suffered serious psychological damage and wouldn't be able to be of any help in a considerable amount of time. Also they aren't allowed to talk to the 4 children among them. So this leaves them with 7 adolescents and young adults, 5 men and 2 women. Their first session is with a gaunt young man with hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. There's not much useful information he can tell them and listening to what he had to go through, Dean has to bite his lip until he tastes blood.

They make it outside and Dean and Cas sit side by side for a moment, before Dean picks up the next file. 'Jessica Moore' it reads next to the picture of a girl with messy blonde hair and even on the photograph her blue eyes are gleaming with something more than hurt and fear, something like righteous fury and determination. He follows Cas to the interrogation room where Jessica Moore is sitting on a table, a cup of coffee in front of her and he finds that her eyes are even more piercing in reality. They introduce themselves before sitting down opposite of her.

“You're going to make him pay, right,” she says before either of them has the chance to even open their mouths and Dean has to lift a hand over his mouth to hide the incredulous smile at the baffled look on Castiel's face.

“I've seen things, heard things. I can help you.”

Well, this promised to be a lot more interesting than they'd initially thought...

~~~

Castiel had been afraid of talking with the teenage girl; he’d never been good with women, finding them intimidating at the worst, and confusing at the least. After an hour of talking with Jessica though, he was beginning to change his mind.

“My parents took the three of us on vacation to Mexico this summer. It was supposed to be a celebration- Thank you,” she pauses as Dean hands her a donut wrapped in a paper towel, “um..oh, a celebration, for their anniversary, you know?”

Castiel nods, looking up from where he was scribbling notes on his yellow notepad.

“Is that where you were taken?” He asks cautiously, well aware that the situation was delicate. Her file had indicated that she had been taken from her parents when she was in Mexico City, and that her parents had never returned to the USA. They’d been ‘missing’ for four months. Jessica nods, lips pressed together tight, but it doesn’t stop them from quivering. She sniffs and scrubs the palm of her hand at her eyes, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Yeah…They…they took me right out of my hotel room. I had called down for more t-towels, and when they knocked on the door, I didn’t check to see who it was. They took me, a..and-,” she breaks off, a broken sob coming up out of her throat, her shoulders coming up toward her head in a defensive position. Castiel hesitates for a second, and then reaches out to touch her hands where they were resting on the table. She’d been digging her thumb into the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger of her other hand, and now there was a red indentation that was slowly bleeding. Jessica starts when Castiel’s hand lands on hers, but then she looks up at him, and he nods, eyes meeting hers, blue on blue. She takes a deep shuddery breath, and continues her story.

“The last thing I heard before everything went dark was my Mom, yelling my name. I don’t know what happened to them, but the man…the one with the yellow sunglasses? He told me they’re dead. I believe him.”

She takes another breath, and then uses the paper towel that was around the donut to dab at the small cut on her hand.

“Dean, can you?” Castiel asks softly, and Dean nods, the look on his face both stunned and disgusted from Jessica’s story. He leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him, and Castiel reaches out again, gently laying his hand over Jessica’s still bruised wrist.

“Ms. Moore-“

“Jess.”

Castiel can’t stop the slight smile that comes to his lips at her firm attitude, a teenage firecracker, ready to take on the world.

“Jess.” He clears his throat and then speaks again, voice calm and level. “We’re going to do everything in our power to get Azazel, and everyone involved in his operation. I’ve been working on this for almost 2 and a half years now, and we’ve never been closer than we are now. Anything, and I mean _anything,_ that you can tell us, might be able to help us track the sonofabitch down and nail him.”

She raises her head, red rimmed eyes full of fire, jaw clenched in determination.

“What do you need to know?”

They spend the next four hours talking with Jessica, first going over what she remembers of the trip from Mexico City to San Diego (“Nothing. I woke up in a tiny cell crammed with ten other kids…some of them were as young as three years old. It was cold, and dark, and smelled like wet concrete.”), and then the last four months that she’d been held captive, one day at a time.

They nail down several of the houses and buildings they were using to hold people captive with her help; buildings owned by various shell corporations, that once they followed the trail back, eventually arrived at ‘Midas Trucking’. Castiel’s eyes go wide and that, and his jaw drops.

“Oh…”

“Cas?” Dean asks, looking up from his pile of files to stare with a bewildered look at his still partner. Castiel turns to Dean, swallowing hard, before he licks his lips.

“I…figured it out. I’ve got it. Midas Trucking, I can’t believe it, we didn’t see it before because Midas Trucking always checked out as a legitimate trucking company…. We have to pull _everything_  for Midas Trucking, from the very beginning of the company until now. They’re using the trucks to move people somehow…They probably have a few border patrol agents on their payroll, and that’s how they’re able to get through!”

He slams his hand down on the table, his grin blinding.

“We’ve got him, Dean. We’ve got him.”

He turns to look at Jessica, his smile nod fading even slightly.

“Are you willing to testify against Azazel, once we find him?”

She nods once, her smile slow and dangerous.

“Fuck yes I am.”

~~~

It's been a long and tough day and Dean has to practically drag Cas out of the precinct and back to their hotel, not willing to spend another sleepless night hunched over in some uncomfortable office chair. But Cas isn't in the mood for sleeping or cuddling or even sex, for that matter, and while Dean can't hide his chagrin at that completely, he also admires the older man for his determination. He's been talking about how strong and brave Jessica Moore is for holding out this long and for being ready to take her kidnappers down without ever asking for a thing. After conferring with Patrick a couple of hours ago, it's a hell of a lot more than any of the other witnesses had offered, and Dean has to admit he's pretty impressed by the young woman as well. She's only 17 and she's been through hell, yet she doesn't show the slightest bit of fear or doubt.

They spend another two days in Sacramento, going through the witness reports over and over and over and by the time Patrick knocks on the door of their makeshift office, they're absolutely exhausted.

“You guys look like shit,” Patrick summarizes what Dean already knows is true. It doesn't stop either of them from throwing an annoyed glare into his direction.

He walks over to Castiel's desk, picking up a file for a moment before closing it.

“Why don't you pack your stuff and go home. I'm pretty sure we can handle it for now,” and as Cas opens his mouth to object he quickly adds “I'll let you know if anything changes, I promise. It's Thanksgiving tomorrow. Don't tell me you don't have any plans...?”

And in the end this is what does the trick for both of them. Dean only has to imagine what Ellen would say, let alone do to them if they missed out her huge dinner and after sharing his assumptions with Cas, his partner agrees more than willingly. They have a minor dispute about the means of transportation back to the city of angels but as Dean won't set a foot on another plane 'or so help me Satan', they end up renting a car. The goodbye is a little strained, yet sincere and Dean is surprised to say the least when even Cas extends a hand to Patrick and pulls him into a quick embrace. They have him promise for like the 15th time to call them about every change, even the minor ones, before Dean finally slides behind the steering wheel and they're off, back home. Cas sleeps a lot but Dean manages to find a classic rock station and by the time he pulls the car into park in front of Cas' place, he leans over to wake his lover with a loud roar of “Heat of the moment” right next to his ear. He then spends the next half an hour trying to get his grumpy sleepy partner to forgive him, finally succeeding when he drops to his knees and sucks him until his eyes roll back into his head.

The next day they're over at Dean's parents' house and even though Ellen had them promise to come over to help, she won't let them do a thing. So after Dean tried offering a hand for the umpteenth time, he eventually comes back to the living-room, where Sam and Cas are talking about politics. He and Jo try to get into it for a while but Dean ends up just sitting there, watching them or more staring at Cas, a constant small smile on his lips and he doesn't even notice Jo laughing at him. Castiel's siblings show up later with a bouquet of flowers and seven bottles of champagne and the later it gets the louder and more cheerful the conversations become. Despite Dean's worries he gets along just fine with both Anna and Gabriel and although Cas hadn't exaggerated when talking about his brother, Dean finds he likes his weird humor and boisterous demeanor very much.

Dinner is a blast and by the time Ellen serves part one (yes, there are more about to come) of the dessert there's nobody at the table who isn't tipsy at the very least. Dean doesn't know how it happens but a couple of hours later he finds himself on Cas' lap and his partner doesn't seem like he minds, quite the contrary actually if the obvious boner pressing against his ass is any indication.

~~~

The ride home from Sacramento back to Los Angeles is peaceful. Castiel finds himself lulled to sleep by Dean’s smooth voice crooning along with the radio, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel as they head down the highway. He’s still tired the next morning, but gets up and showers anyway, putting on jeans and a worn in blue sweater with a v-neck, a collared shirt under it, as he didn’t want to show up in slacks and be over-dressed, or wear a t-shirt and be the only guy at Thanksgiving who was dressed that casually. Cas knows he overthinks it, and given the way Dean teases him for staring at his own reflection for a good five minutes, Dean thinks so too.

Thankfully, everyone is hugs and ‘get the hell in here Castiel’ once they arrive at the Winchesters’, and Bobby and Ellen both appear more than happy to see him, even if Bobby’s brand of happy is a grunted hello and an offer of beer.

Castiel ends up drinking red wine with Sam, talking politics for an hour, before the doorbell rings, and Anna and Gabriel come inside. Anna hands Ellen an apple peach pie, and Gabriel passes over a large bowl of cheesy garlic mashed potatoes, one of Castiel’s favorites. He stares at his siblings for a moment, before standing up and going to hug them both. There’s a moment of silence between the trio, before Gabriel breaks it, whispering to Castiel that he was ‘glad you’ve come back home, little brother’. Anna squeezes both of them tighter, and they break apart before anyone can come to tears.

Dinner is…chaotic, to say the least. Where Castiel’s family had always been shades of polite talk mixed with Gabriel’s jokes and Anna’s discussions, Dean’s family was…something else entirely. Castiel isn’t sure where he fits in, but by the second glass of wine, he doesn’t care as much, and his stiff posture has relaxed along with his mouth.

“I’m telling you Castiel, you could have been a model with those eyes!” Lisa coos, grinning at him from across the table. Castiel flushes pink and smiles, looking down at his mostly empty plate. Sam snorts.

“Yeah, well…Dean’s always had a type. Dark hair, pretty eyes, patience of a Saint…,” Sam trails off, and then ducks when Dean chucks a roll at him from across the table, snickering until Ellen clears her throat and arches an eyebrow at them both.

“There’ll be no wasting food at my table, you two. You know the rules. You have an argument at the dinner table, you can solve it like real men.”

Both Sam and Dean sigh, their shoulders slumping, and Castiel blinks in confusion, before Bobby chuckles. He nods his head toward the kitchen, eyes dancing with humor as he looks at Cas.

“Real men do the dishes. That’s rule number 3 in this house, right after putting the seat down after you use the pot and remembering to wipe your feet.”

Castiel looks back at Ellen, a burst of laughter coming out of him at the smug look on her face. She tilts her chin up at Castiel and then nods at her eldest son.

“Train ‘em young, Castiel. You don’t want to be picking up Dean’s dirty laundry for years to come.”

Castiel gapes at them, eyes flicking back and forth between everyone at the table, who all seemed to have turned to stare at him. Even Ben was looking at him now, and he was basically cornered, feeling the eyes of those around him boring into him. He clears his throat and licks his lips, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Dean’s capable of looking after his own messes. He’s a very capable man,” he says, his eyes drifting up and across the table toward Dean, the smile he gets worth every ounce of embarrassment.

Later, when there was pie of multiple different flavors being served, fresh whipped cream or vanilla ice cream on top, Castiel is four glasses of wine deep, and can’t stop himself from grabbing Dean, and pulling him onto his lap. He leans up and kisses Dean’s cheek sloppily, whispering against his ear, his eyes closed as he holds Dean close.

“Today was perfect…thank you-…y-… _you’re_  perfect.”

~~~

Cas' lips on his cheek tickles and Dean can't help chuckling, fighting off the other man's caresses gently only to lean in and whisper a sweet reply of “Well, you're the one who makes me wanna be perfect” into his ear.

It’s way past midnight and the house is slowly but surely becoming quiet; Lisa took Ben home around 11 and Jo had so much to drink that she passed out on the couch in the middle of a conversation with Anna. Bobby excuses himself to bed next, not without pulling Castiel, Anna and Gabriel into a gruff hug first of course, and soon it's only Ellen, Dean, Cas and his brother and sister left. It seems like Anna and Cas can't stop thanking Ellen for the wonderful evening and the delicious food and the generous invitation and Dean has to practically shove them out of the house. There's more hugs and kisses exchanged – funnily Gabriel doesn't get that much louder when he drinks, instead the minute he and Anna get into a cab, he slumps down on the backseat and starts snoring. Anna blows them a kiss as the car pulls off and Dean and Cas raise their hands to wave goodbye, a goofy smile on both of their faces.

They're far too wasted to drive back home but Dean's apartment isn't too far from his parents' place so they start walking down the empty sidewalk, their hands finding each other, fingers intertwining and once again Dean can't believe this is really happening. As opposed to his older brother Castiel is what they call a clingy drunk – not that Dean wants to complain. The other man snakes his arm around Dean's waist after they walked only five feet and in a matter of seconds lets his hand drop to Dean's ass, sliding it in Dean's back pocket, quietly giggling and puffing warm air against the side of his lover's neck..

“Easy tiger,” Dean chuckles and turns his head to kiss him as they halt waiting for the stoplight to turn green “We're almost home.”

~~~

Castiel laughs again, soft and low, leaning in to whisper against Dean’s cheek.

“Wish I wasn’t…hadn’t..had so much wine…want to take you,” he sighs, brushing his nose along Dean’s cheek and then stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk, feet barely catching up so he doesn’t drag both him and Dean down.

“Woah…,” he says, eyes wider now that adrenaline was pumping through his veins along with the alcohol.

Dean gets them back to his apartment without any major incidents, and Castiel flops down, fast first, onto the couch. He rolls over after a moment and struggles to take off his sweater and shirt, sitting up and trying to pull them off over his head, but the shirt gets stuck, so he ends up looking something like a three year old trying to take off their own clothes for the first time.

“Deannnn,” Cas whines softly, arms flailing just a little bit, his head still stuck in the inside out shirt.

~~~

For a moment all Dean can do is watch and laugh; the view is just too damn cute not to enjoy. Eventually he crouches in front of his lover, pulling up the bundle of clothes and pushing him back against the backrest, before helping him out of his shoes, and then unbuttoning and pulling off his pants.

“You're adorable,” he coos, kissing along the insides of Cas' thighs and making the other man squirm.

Cas is hard – still or already, Dean is not entirely sure – but nevertheless Dean thinks there might not be as much action as they both want happening tonight. Removing his lover's shorts only takes seconds and soon Dean is on his knees between Castiel's spread legs, kissing and biting and sucking the most delicious sounds out of him. Cas comes down his throat only ten minutes of devoted worshipping later and Dean swallows it all, licking his lips before diving back up and sealing his partner's lips in a feverish kiss. They make it to the bedroom somehow, tumbling down holding onto each other tightly, still breathing heavily from the late night make out session. They kiss until both of their chests stop heaving frantically and return to a steady rhythm and Dean smiles against his lover's lips, feeling as happy as he could be.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says which makes Cas snort and giggle hysterically and Dean has to nudge his side playfully and add “Not like that, you idiot. My mum really loved having you over. I really loved showing you off – you looked hot, in a...well, sexy librarian way.”

~~~

“I was…going for that. Sexxyy…,” he growls softly, and then snorts and falls back against the bed, hands lazily trailing up and down Dean’s back. Castiel rolls them after a moment, clumsily climbing on top of Dean and grinding his ass down against Dean’s cock… once he’s sure he’s not going to fall over.

“You- wanna fuck me?” He asks, his words slurred slightly, before he bends down and kisses Dean again, sloppy and slow. His hips grind down in an easy rhythm, mimicking how Castiel rode Dean not two weeks before, in the back of Dean’s impala, shuddering and coming all over his chest before Dean shoved up inside him and came as well with panting gasps of ‘fuck-fuck, Cas!’. Castiel moves down to nuzzle at Dean’s neck, his words soft when he speaks again.

“Want you to. Fuck me…make me yours,” he sighs, draping himself over Dean, hands moving slowly, slower still, over Dean’s shoulders and arms, almost as if Castiel was petting him.

“So pretty Dean,” he says wistfully, his words almost like thoughts that Castiel  would normally not even be voicing, but thanks to the alcohol his filter was 100% gone.

~~~

He chuckles at that, returning Castiel's kisses before pulling back gently.

“Oh, I want to, make no mistake about that. But I'd rather have you actually remember how I fucked you so...I'm gonna have to pass.”

It's not what Cas wants to hear, hell, the way he's groaning and grumbling it's pretty obvious how unwelcome Dean's rejection is, but it's for the best. Dean wants him, he would always want him, but he hates drunk fucks. He also knows how the past week had exhausted his partner, what with the breakthrough in their case, the flying up and down to and from Sacramento. And something tells him that girl Jessica had left an impression on his lover and he's not quite certain yet how to feel about it.

He sits back up eventually; pulling the blanket over the both of them and snuggling close to Cas, his hand snaking down to gently stroke his lower belly, brush through the thin line of hair leading down from his bellybutton to his cock.

“You just be a good boy and sleep it off. I promise I'll fuck you tomorrow.”

He leans in to kiss Cas hungrily, grinning against his lips as he lets out another disapproving grunt.

~~~

Cas pushes at Dean ineffectively; Dean wasn’t going to budge on the matter, but Castiel wanted his dislike known, so he voices it the best he can in a half asleep, far too inebriated state. Though unintelligible grunting and lots of frowning. Cas eventually curls up with Dean, too tired to do more than murmur softly, telling Dean for the 27th time that he’s ‘not a boy, you ass’, but there’s never any real anger to it.

He yawns and then smacks his lips together a few times, hands still idly brushing along any part of Dean that he can reach.

“Dean..?”

“MM?...Was’it Cas?” Dean mumbles, his face still pressed against Castiel’s shoulder.

“…Thank you…f’everything t’day.”

He can feel the smile that comes over Dean’s face, lips brushing over his shoulder, and he feels a shiver when Dean’s breath puffs out over his skin when he speaks again.

“Go t’sleep, angel-face.”

Castiel does.


	20. Good Things Come to Those That Wait (and wait and wait)

The next morning Castiel wakes up with a splitting headache, but after greasy bacon, coffee, and a handful of advil, he’s feeling semi-human again. Enough to go to work, at least. He and Dean roll in around 10am to the precinct, and have to spend the next 2 hours filling out expense reports and updating the Chief on what they’d learned from their time in Sacramento.

“So you’re telling me that this Detective from Sacramento,” the Chief begins, frown already furrowing his impressive brow further than usual, “is working on our case with the witnesses and information that you two idiots left up there?”

Castiel blinks and then frowns, and Dean gapes at the man across the paper-strewn desk.

“Well? I’m waiting for an explanation gentlemen,” Chief Turner says, and leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he looks from Dean to Castiel and back again.

“Actually, Pat-…Detective Webster…is the one who discovered the link between the men in Sacramento and those down here, that they were all working for Azazel. So really, we have to thank him for opening up the case, and allowing us to work with him on this, Sir, otherwise we would have still been in the dark about the Midas Trucking link, and we would have never come into contact with Jessica Moore, who is turning out to be our best asset for a positive conviction on Azazel and the rest of his operation. Sir.”

Chief Turner arches one fuzzy brow at Castiel, before smirking slowly.

“Alright. Then…back to work, the both of you. Figure out the links all the way down the chain so we can bring this sucker down.”

“Yes Sir.”

~~~

Less than half of the conversation doesn't even reach Dean's brain, his head still pounding like it had ever since he opened his eyes this morning. Really, it's unfair how Cas could just get rid of his hangover with some greasy food and coffee while Dean still feels like one of the Midas Trucks used his head as a road. He does notice the glint in the chief's eyes though and he's known him for long enough now to recognize when he was impressed with one of his boys. He follows Cas outside and over to their office, only speaking up after the door falls shut behind them.

“How did you do that?”

He shakes his head gently, immediately regretting it as the world doesn't stop spinning for the next minute or so.

“I mean you practically shut him up. That has to be some sort of record.”

He shrugs his shoulders as Cas raises his brow from his desk on the other side of the room.

“So...what's the plan? No word from Patrick yet, unless there's something you didn't tell me, and the witness reports and case files are all up in Sacramento.”

~~~

“The Chief knows me well enough to understand when I have something handled,” Castiel says gruffly, waving a hand over his shoulder to dismiss Dean’s obvious praise without another word. He sits down at his desk and sighs, turning on his computer and looking over at Dean while he waits for it to boot up.

“I don’t know Dean. I haven’t heard anything from Patrick either…but I want to check in. With him, and on Jessica Moore. I feel…bad, just leaving here up there in Sacramento. There are people protecting her, and she’s probably safer up there than down here, but I just can’t…I can’t shake the feeling that we should be doing _more_  for her.”

He frowns at himself, and then turns to look at him computer again, the screen finally flickering to life.

“I have 65 e-mails….,” he groans, and then motions toward his coffee cup without actually looking at it, pulling up the first email to read.

“I will blow you later if you get me coffee, I swear.”

~~~

There's not much Dean can do other than jump up and hurry to get the demanded refill. While Cas downs his hot beverage in record time whilst browsing through his emails, Dean picks up the phone and calls Patrick. There's the obligatory talk about they spent the holidays and Dean is relieved to notice how the tone between him and Patrick is still friendly and light. It's more than he ever could have hoped for. When he asks about Jessica Moore, though, Patrick lowers his voice and all of the sudden he sounds more serious than Dean had ever heard him.

“She's in protective custody, Dean. I haven't seen her since you guys left and I got no idea where they're holding her. I figure it's for the best, what with Azazel having that mole in your precinct. You never know who else is in with those bastards. I just hope she'll be alright. She's just a kid...I feel horrible for her.”

Dean is biting his lip nervously when he eventually hangs up and he already knows that Cas won't like what he would have to tell him.

~~~

Castiel’s face clouds over when Dean mentions Jessica, and how Patrick didn’t even know where she was. He clears his throat and nods, curtly, after a long moment of silence.

“He’s right…we don’t know if there’s another mole…Meg Masters is gone, but there could be another one. There’s no way of tell-…wait…wait,” Castiel trails off, his eyes lighting up, and he stands up before dragging Dean out of the office with him, and down the hall into an empty stairwell.

Castiel looks around, motioning for Dean to be quiet so he could listen. When Castiel finally decides they’re truly alone, he speaks in low tones to Dean, his words coming out in a rushed whisper.

“Dean…what if there _is_  a mole in the office still…and what if we can use that mole to our advantage?”

At Dean’s look of confusion Castiel sighs, and then nods.

“Okay...look…we make plans to meet up with Jessica Moore’s keepers, have them transfer her down here into our custody, have the Chief sign off on it, get US Marshalls involved, the whole works….only we never actually transfer her. What if we let them think they can ambush us en route and take Jess out, but we actually set a trap for them?”

He’s visibly excited, eyes wide and hands up from gesturing while he was talking.

~~~

He doesn't like the idea. It's vague and risky and frankly Dean doesn't even know if he believes in another mole. But Cas is sure of it, he's so enthusiastic about it and Dean knows that any criticism would all but ricochet right off him.

“I don't like it,” he says eventually, despite having decided to support Cas' plan “But if you're sure about it...if you're absolutely and 100 % positive you wanna take that risk, I'm with you.”

~~~

Castiel stands up straight, taking a half step away from Dean and frowning.

“Nothing else has worked, Dean…I’ve-…I worked on this case for over two years with Balthazar…and in the four months we’ve worked together, we’ve gotten closer to nailing this sonofabitch than he and I did in all that time- I just…,” he cuts off, scrubbing both of his hands over his face and up through his hair, only to let them go, flop down uselessly to his sides.

“…I need this to be done. LA needs him gone.  _Jess_ needs some closure…and you…you deserve it too, Dean,” he says softly, taking a step forward back into Dean’s space. Castiel kisses him then, chaste and gentle, before pulling back once more.

“Trust me. Please?”

~~~

“What could I possible say after a burning speech like that?”

Dean huffs out a laugh and shrugs, returning the kiss gently before turning towards the door.

“You wanna tell the chief? Cause I sure won't try to convince him...”

Despite all of his doubts Rufus does approve of Castiel's plan. Dean watches him and Cas go over the details, feeling incredulous and slightly caught off guard. Castiel is so enthusiastic about it, so intent on bringing Azazel and his organization down and Dean can't help but marvel at his unyielding determination. The chief talks to the authorities in Sacramento and there's tension over the decision of moving a key witness but Rufus pulls some strings and only one and a half weeks later the matter is set. Dean can't quite believe how fast everything falls into place, neither does he have a clue how Cas and the boss had pulled off a fake transfer that quickly and almost without any issues.

The side effects of sharing a bed with your partner these days are that Dean doesn't actually get to have that much of Castiel. He sticks to his initial opinion about the plan, he's still not too keen about it – but somehow Cas had taken this as him backing out, Dean being unwilling to help out as much as he can. Neither of them talks about it but Dean knows, can feel Cas pulling away from him just a little and he wonders if this is something he just has to do on his own. There had been a connection between Jess and Cas from the beginning and while Dean doesn't understand what had triggered that, he knows how important this is to Cas. Not only keeping Jessica Moore safe but finally closing this goddamned case. Cas is talking about closure and Dean finds that, yes, it's not only Jess who needs it...

~~~

There’s only a few more days until the transfer actually happens, and the trap will be sprung. In the meantime Castiel and Dean have been ‘careless’; they’ve left their computers on, papers on the desks, and the door not locked. Castiel figures if there is a mole, he or she will have made sure to rifle through all the papers and emails, even though there’s never any trace that anyone has been in their room.

A few of the people in the department have caught Castiel’s eye, as he’s become more and more paranoid about the mole, although it never shows on the surface. Ruby, from VICE, has always seemed too cheerful for a job that involves pretending to be a hooker and talking to scumbags day in and day out. She also has a violent streak a mile wide, and had been written up more than once for ‘excessive force’. Castiel isn’t sure if it’s here though, and there’s at least 4 other people that he thinks could possibly not have their loyalties lying with the Department.

He doesn’t mention it to Dean though. Dean’s behavior had been…odd, to say the least, in the past week and a half they’d been preparing to spring the trap. He’d been distant and cold, and then fiery and passionate, shifting between the two extremes like a pendulum.

It didn’t really matter though, as Castiel’s energies were 100% on the case; he had one shot at this, and he wasn’t about to blow it.

It’s late by the time they leave work, two days before the trap is to be set into motion, and Castiel suggests that they grab some take out and head home.

“I’m tired Dean…we should just grab some food on the way home, crash. There’s more we’ll need to go over tomorrow morning before meeting with the Chief and the swat team for a briefing.”

~~~

Working with Cas is difficult these days. Because it's just that. Work. They arrive early in the morning and stay until late in the night, they have lunch in a crappy diner around the corner (to give the mole opportunity to search their office) and order Chinese or pizza in the evening. It's been a week since Cas last slept with Dean, really slept with him. Because while they fall asleep in each other’s arms, Dean can't help but think that Castiel's thoughts are not with him, are with Jessica Moore and transfixed on finding this mole he's so certain to exist. So Dean isn't exactly in a good mood. He's tired, borderline exhausted and to top it all off he's horny and frustrated.

Another day, or should he say night, nears its end and Castiel leads them outside to his car, talking about takeout food and a quiet evening at home and Dean just can't anymore. He slams the car door he'd just opened shut again and glares at his partner over the roof of his car.

“Yeah, you really should get some rest,” he spits wrapping the strap of his satchel around his shoulder and taking a step towards the curb before continuing in a fake-cheerful tone “Hey, you know what? I'm not even gonna distract you tonight – you can thank me later!”

He raises a hand, motioning for a cab in the sparse late night traffic, not even looking back at Castiel again.

~~~

Castiel stands there, stunned, as Dean hops into the cab and it takes off, Dean not even bothering to look back at him as it turns the corner. He frowns, feeling hurt, and a little abandoned. He’d been depending on going home with Dean, on relaxing on the couch and curling up in one another arms at night as they had for…god …over a month now? Had it only been that long?

He frowns at himself, surprised that he’d gotten used to Dean being in his life, being a solid fixture in his life, so quickly. And now it felt like a bandaid had been ripped off an old wound, and the taunting words Dean had spoken to him months ago come back to haunt him.

_“You're just a scared little boy who doesn't know how to live on his own.”_

Castiel takes a shuddery breath, realizing that those words were probably more true than he’d ever wanted to admit. He climbs slowly into his car and then goes home, not bothering with the takeout, as his appetite had completely disappeared.

He lays on his couch, fully clothed, letting the chatter and flickering lights from the TV wash over him, numb him. Castiel wasn’t sure how to handle this; he could tell Dean had been mad when he left, stormed away from Castiel and climbed into the cab. But he didn’t know what to do.

He sits up and sighs, before going to his computer and opening his personal email, checking for the fifth time that day for an email from Jessica. This time, unlike the last four, there was one. He grins to himself and opens it up, thanking the Chief under his breath for allowing them this rare luxury, even if it was part of the trap. He eagerly readsthe blocks of text that detailed how bored she was, and how much she wanted to be doing something other than reading the few books that the safe house had on stock, or beating her ‘watch dogs’ for the fifteenth time in a row at chess.

Castiel feels his chest tighten when she tells him that she’s glad to have met him, and that out of everyone who she’d met since she’d been rescued, he was the only one that seemed to get how much she wanted to see Azazel in jail, or better yet, dead.

Castiel takes a moment, before replying.

‘Jess,

I know you’re eager to see Azazel punished for his crimes, and if it was up to me I’d leave you in a room with him and an aluminum bat…but it’s not. There’s going to be a trial, and it’s going to be a lengthy one. I need to know that you’re up for that.

Things are set here to transfer you down day after tomorrow. I know your handlers (watch dogs is more appropriate, really) will take good care of you, but I’m impatient to see you in the hands of people I personally know, and trust, will make sure you’re safe.

Sleep tight Jess,

~Castiel

p.s.  
Challenge them to I spy or 20 questions. You’d be surprised how much time that can pass.

Castiel closes the email down again and sighs, frowning at himself. He hated that they had to include her in the rouse, and keep her blind as well as part of the trap, even though he knew it was for the best if it was to be believable. One of the few IT guys they’d managed to get involved with this had managed to track that Castiel’s email had been hacked into; the password wasn’t changed, but someone had been reading his personal and work emails for months now, since well before Dean joined the Department.

The idea that someone had done all that, without him knowing, sent chills up Castiel’s spine when he’d found out about it. Now though, he was using the spy’s own tools to his advantage, and was praying that it would work the way they wanted it to.

He looks at his phone once more- again, not a single message from Dean. Castiel frowns to himself before sighing and getting up to go to the bedroom. He needed rest if he was going to help lead the task force tomorrow.

~~~

Dean doesn't sleep that night and for a while he just lies on the couch, his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling unseeing. Shadows dance over the walls and soon the streetlight in front of his window flickers and Dean is tempted to get his duty weapon and shoot it off. He thinks he falls asleep at one point because the next time he opens his eyes the sky outside is bright. His back hurts like a motherfucker and he's still wearing all of his clothes. And he's still angry at Cas. Yeah, maybe he should have stayed, maybe, no scratch that, he had wanted to yell at Cas, he had wanted to have Cas yell back at him – he wants to fight, to tell that work-aholic son of a bitch that this is not what he signed up for and that he would not let him do this to him, to them. But he had fled, jumped into a cab and avoided confrontation. Because really, he couldn't expect Cas to run after him, to follow him home and beg him to forgive him. So in a way Dean thinks this night separate from each other might have been something good, something they had needed. When he shows up at work around noon though he puts up his serious face again, walking into the office nonchalantly. Castiel isn't there and Dean remembers that today is the day the big task force meeting had been scheduled. He's bound to get into trouble for not showing up, Dean knows that, but right now he frankly could care less.

~~~

Castiel knows that the task force meeting went well when everyone leaves around 11:30 with firm expressions, the energy practically vibrating through them all. They were all going to take down Azazel and his team, once and for all. He was confident that it was going to go as planned, and spends the next hour speaking to the Chief about all possible scenarios that could crop up, and how to avoid them.

When he finally makes it back to the office around 12:40, he’s shocked to see Dean sitting at his desk.

“…You’re here,” he murmurs, closing the door behind him as he walks in, the din from the rest of the precinct fading into the background.

“I didn’t think you were going to come in today…seeing as you missed the meeting this morning.”

His tone is biting, and Castiel loosens his tie as he walks over to his desk, setting his coffee cup down with a thunk, and cursing when it spilled some of the dark liquid onto the wooden surface.

~~~  
Dean just shrugs, watching the other man wipe his table with a tissue.

“This is your baby, Castiel, I'm sure you managed just fine without me.”

He turns back to stare at his computer screen; he hadn't even bothered turning it on yet. The silence between them is deafening and Dean is remembered painfully of the time Cas had ignored him after Dean had first expressed his interest, the time Cas had avoided him after Dean had confessed his love, the time Dean and Patrick had been dating... There had been too many silences and Dean would be damned if he let another one darken their relationship.

“I'm not happy right now,” he states and it's really nothing shocking or surprising but Cas looks up anyway, eyes wide and quizzical “I know this case is important to you, it is to me too. In case you forgot, I was the one who got kidnapped and tortured. But it's not worth all this,” he pauses, motioning around the crammed office, files and evidence everywhere “It's not worth you giving up your life for and it's not worth ruining our relationship over.”

He gets up eventually and walks over to Castiel, stopping right in front of him to meet his eyes, the genuine fear and worry blatantly obvious in his own.

“I wanna live, Cas...I want a life with you. And I don't want to talk and think and fucking dream about Azazel, I can't – I just can't go on like this, you living for nothing but work, nothing but this case, it's too much, ok?”

Again he falls silent, his voice breaking on that last syllable. He had been getting better over the past couple of months, even more so over the last few weeks; ever since he and Cas got together the nightmares had decreased, disappeared even. Cas knows his tender spots, his triggers and does everything to avoid them. Dean hasn't had any flashbacks in weeks. But the more Cas got himself invested in this case, the less he took care about Dean and Dean knows it's not all about him, hell, he never wanted to be the weak one, the one who needed to be taken care of but he does... he does need it and he does want it. And he wishes he wouldn't have to tell it to Cas, he wishes Cas had seen how miserable he had been. But he hadn't and Dean tries, he really tries not to blame him. Fuck, he feels tears well up in the corners of his eyes and he's not even sure if they're angry or disappointed or sad.

~~~

Castiel stiffens when Dean first starts talking, calling him by his full name, something he hadn’t done often at all since they first met. He looks up and meets Dean’s eyes, and then listens, as the other man talks, getting increasingly watery eyed and fidgety as he does.

He’s tempted to offer Dean a tissue, but isn’t sure if Dean would take it as the peace offering that he’d mean it as, or as Castiel being patronizing, so he keeps it to himself. The thought vanishes completely from his head in the next second though, when Dean says that the case ‘isn’t worth it’. His hands ball into fists on his desk, and he stares up at Dean, jaw clenching rhythmically as he lets the other man finish his tirade before he responds.

“…I hate to be the asshole here Dean…but this isn’t about you. Not just you, anyway. I need this closed for many reasons…For you, and for Jess…most of all I need this done so that no one else will die at the hands of Azazel…there’s already been too many deaths,” he sighs, standing up and brushing a hand through his already crazy hair. He looks tired; his skin was sallow and there were dark blotches beneath each eye.

“…I understand that you’re upset…but I don’t think you’re seeing my side on this either…I have a chance to stop him- to _finally_  STOP Azazel. He killed my partner…..my lover, Dean. Balthazar died in my arms because of this scumbag…and I have a chance to stop him from hurting anyone else. So I’m sorry if I haven’t been the perfect boyfriend for you these past two weeks, and that my attentions have been elsewhere….but I can’t take any chances right now. I have to do this. I need you to understand that Dean…,” Castiel places his hands flat on the desktop, licking his lower lip and sighing heavily in frustration.

“…Can you please just try to have patience with me? Just one more day Dean, that’s all I’m asking. Please.”

Castiel’s voice is quiet as he begs Dean to understand, his eyes dull and his posture slumped. He wanted this to be over so badly it hurt, and having this guilt trip from Dean right now was the last thing he needed.

~~~

Dean swallows heavily as he listens to Cas talk. And it makes sense, in a way, Dean knows of course what Castiel’s intentions and motivations behind this case are. The blank expression on his face stays though, even as he lets Cas finish and nods slowly.

“Are you sure?”

He bites his lower lip and watches Castiel look up from where he had been staring at the floor.

“Cas, can you really promise me that after tomorrow this will be over? You’ve dedicated over 2 years of your life to this case – how can you be sure that you can just…let go this easily?”

He sighs, lifts a hand to brush it through his hair and over his face, shaking his head softly.

“Ok,” he says then, without any noticeable reason for a change of heart “You ask me to be patient and I will, I’ll try. I trust you when you say this will end tomorrow. Just…”

He pauses again, contemplating his next words before speaking them quietly, carefully.

“Don’t be a stranger…please…”

He doesn’t wait for Cas to reply and this time he’s not fleeing, there’s just nothing he wants or expects Cas to say to this. They both had spoken their minds, they know about each other’s thoughts and hopes, their wishes and fears now and that’s all they need to know. Dean gets his dressing-down by the chief and he takes it without a word, which leaves Rufus a little speechless and he even ends up briefing Dean on what had been discussed at the meeting.

When he returns to their office later, Cas is shuffling around the room, pinning pieces of paper at the wall and connecting them with pins and thread. Dean watches him for a moment from the door frame before heading over to the far side of the room to start boxing up the scattered files and papers. Neither of them says a word as Dean cleans up the mess that had been their office for ever since he could remember and Cas keeps preparing for the most important day of his career, maybe even his life.

They stay late, as usual, and when Andy shows up with two cups of coffees around 11 and asks them with a cocked eyebrow what they’re still doing there, Dean just smiles and takes the drinks before wishing the intern a good night. Only when he looks up from the fake transfer papers he’d been studying for over an hour now and finds Cas slumped over on his desk, eyes closed and breathing softly, Dean turns off the desk lamp and walks over to gently stir him awake.

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs against the warm skin where neck meets jaw and with a gentle bite right there Cas is up and awake almost immediately.

Cas had been looking terrible those past few days and while Dean drives them home and watches the other man dozing in the rearview mirror every now and then, he realizes just how much influence this case had on his physical and emotional well-being. He helps his lover up the stairs of his apartment building and into the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks before unbuttoning his pants and shirt. He leans back then, pulling his own shirt over his head and then getting up to go brush his teeth.

~~~

By the time they get into the apartment, it’s like Castiel’s caught a second wind. His energy is back and as he slips out of his shoes and socks, sitting on the edge of the bed, he realizes that Dean is right. They haven’t had sex once since he started planning the ambush; he’s barely taken the time to shower, much less show Dean how he feels about him through soft touches and rough, hard sex. He swallows down the guilt he feels and loosens his tie before standing up and walking into the attached bathroom, where Dean was standing, almost naked, with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Castiel walks over to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, press his lips against the back of Dean’s shoulder. He murmurs Dean’s name softly, and is grateful that that’s all it takes for Dean to put down the toothbrush and quickly rinse his mouth, before turning around in Castiel’s arms for a kiss. They kiss for a long moment, Castiel holding Dean up against the counter, Dean’s arms looped lazily over his shoulders. It’s just a firm press of lips for a moment, and then Cas slides his tongue out, the rough catch drag of it over his own chapped lips alien. He can’t even remember the last time they kissed like this off the top of his head, and the guilt swells in his chest.

He pulls away after a moment, the noise of disappointment that Dean makes adorable, the frustration on his features obvious.

“Shh....I’m not stopping,” he soothes, knowing the look on Dean’s face was about to be accompanied by a ‘what the hell, Cas?!’. He stops it though with a slow smile, and takes Dean’s hand before tugging him back into the bedroom, pushing Dean back until he flops back onto the bed.

Cas strips quickly, flushing and feeling his entire body heat up when Dean lets out a low whistle of appreciation. It’s easy then, to just climb onto the bed and cover Dean’s body with his own, kissing him again slow and sweet, exploring each other’s mouths like it’s the first time. Castiel grinds down against Dean, two pairs of underwear in the way for now, the fabric getting wet, twin spots of precome where they’re both already hard and ready. Castiel moves down Dean’s jawline, pressing kiss after kiss to the tanned freckled skin there, nipping at a tendon and licking in the hollow of a collarbone just to feel Dean shudder and sigh against him.

He takes his time now, heedless of the fact that it’s late, and they both have to be up early. None of that matters in the confines of Dean’s bedroom, where the only thing that Cas is concerned with it taking Dean apart inch by gorgeous inch. He moves down further, slides his tongue over a dusky nippple until it pebbles, worries it between blunt teeth until Dean is panting, arching beneath him. Cas works the other one over in the same manner, ignoring Dean’s babbling words, brushing long fingers over planes of firm muscle covered in smooth skin again and again. He brushes his nose down the long line that bisects Dean, the muscles of his stomach jumping when Cas bites him, right to the side of his belly button, on the tiny bit of area that held fat beneath the skin, refused to be model like- and made Dean all the more desirable.

He was human, and frustratingly perfect for all his flaws, because at the end of the day they all worked together in such an amazing package; the person that Dean was, the man Castiel had grown to know...and love....over the past months, was the best man that Cas had ever met. And he knows it’s high time that he told him so.

“You...are the most amazing person...,” he tugs Dean’s underwear down his legs and tosses them away, kissing over the skin he’d just revealed with a sigh. “I’ve ever met, Dean...you never stop surprising me...making me question what I want out of life, what I need...”

He licks the head of Dean’s cock, sucks on it slow and easy like it’s a sucker, a flavor that makes Castiel’s head spin and a low moan escape up his throat, muffled around Dean’s cock in his mouth. Cas moves down, slowly licking and sucking to wet the skin, licking his own lips when they catch as he tries to glide his mouth down, stretch the chapped skin around Dean’s cock until it breaks and stings. It’s worth it though when the head of Dean’s cock nudges against the back of his throat and he swallows, fighting the urge to choke around the intrusion, looks up to watch Dean’s face as he does it.

~~~

When he had confronted Cas that morning at the office Dean had never in a million years thought the day would end like this. He's lying on his back, hips bucking, his whole body shuddering under Castiel's talented fingers and tongue. The deeper he slides the louder his pleas for release get and when his lover's lips close around his length Dean lets out a groan that sounds almost inhuman to himself. Somewhere in between ragged breaths and desperate mumbling he says Cas' name, over and over again and then his hands find the messy head of hair and he cards his fingers through the dark locks, scrapes his nails over the warm skin.

“Cas...please...,” is all he manages before Cas sucks again and Dean is reduced to incoherent whimpering and grabbing and pulling again.

This is more than he'd hoped for and the words Castiel had said just moments ago were filled with such genuine tenderness that it makes Dean's chest tight with affection.

~~~

Every time Dean tugs on his hair Castiel can feel his stomach tighten, his cock twitch with need. He wants so desperately to just bury himself inside Dean, and never surface, but he knows that he can’t. Not right now. Now is the time for slow movements and sweet words, to show Dean how much he means to him, to make up for what a jerk he’s been over the past few weeks. He sucks Dean in, down to the root, and pushes his legs open and up, until Dean obliges him and plants his feet on the bed. Castiel slides his mouth back up to the top and sucks on the head, tongue pressing against the glans on the underside, teasing and light and then hard and unrelenting.

After a moment of this he pops his mouth off, the wet sound obscene and loud in the bedroom, otherwise silent but for Dean’s noises.

“Going to take my time with you,...are you going to let me Dean?” Castiel asks, nosing down to lick and suck at the wrinkled skin of Dean’s balls, move even further as he presses up on Dean’s thighs, forces him to curl his lower back. It works, exposing Dean’s hole to Castiel, the twitching pucker just begging him for attention. Cas shudders, the urge to dive in and take Dean rough almost overpowering him- instead he takes it slow, kissing down to the pale pink skin there, sliding his tongue over it to get it slippery wet before he presses inside, seals his lips over the skin and sucks, pressure tight and raw as he pushes just inside, teasing with every movement.

~~~

To be fair, Dean doesn't think Cas actually expected an answer and even if he did Dean would be unable to give it to him. He's too busy moaning at the top of his lungs and trying not to wrap his legs around Cas' head or generally do whatever was necessary for Cas to get even closer, for their bodies to actually melt together. He feels himself twitching against Cas' lips and then his tongue is pressing inside of him and Dean thinks he loses it completely. He sees stars for one endless glorious moment and when he manages to open his eyes again the sight is positively breathtaking. Cas' eyes are closed, his hands wrapped around Dean's legs to steady them and the pressure is just right. The rest of his face disappears – and Dean has to swallow the giddy lump down at the very thought of it – between his legs. His mouth is hot against his hole, his nose breathing warm air over his perineum and the underside of his balls. It's absolutely deliciously perfect and if Dean didn't want for Cas to fuck him so bad he would have wished for this never to end.

“..ysss....yes, please...don't stop don't stop...”

~~~

Castiel moans against Dean’s entrance, pushing his tongue further inside, actually fucking Dean with it, the sounds sloppy and wet as he suck and licks and tries his hardest to hold onto Dean’s shaking body. He’s going to give Dean bruises, he knows, from how tight a grip he has pushing down on Dean’s thighs, practically bending the other man in half to keep his hole bared like this. Castiel lets go and uses his hands to spread Dean’s cheeks apart instead, pulls back just enough to order Dean to “Hold your legs up, behind your knees...yeah, like that, fuck...so good Dean.”

  
He buries his face back in, licking harder now, thumbs pressing in and pulling the pucker open; Castiel groans in sync with Dean with he finally, finally, presses a wet finger just inside, licking around it until it slides in unencumbered. He keeps it light and easy for a moment, just a smooth thrust of one finger, in and out, but the second Dean eases open a little more, Castiel sucks on the rim as he presses in a second finger, Dean’s skin soaking wet, Castiel’s tongue working overtime to make sure the slide is smooth. He twists the fingers inside Dean’s body, crooking and spreading them, his eyes widening when Dean relaxes around them, a choked groan popping out of his lips when Dean twitches, forcing his fingers back together hard.

“Fuck...you’re so goddamn tight Dean....get me the lube baby, need more’n spit if you want me inside you.”

~~~

Fuck, who knew Castiel was such a master of dirty talk? Dean definitely hadn't noticed it as much before as he does now and he loves it. He always loved Cas' voice, the deep but mellow timbre that vibrated through him like the most beautiful orgasm even when reading a menu or a street sign. Hearing him mutter those filthy words against his own body though makes Dean literally go crazy. He inches away from Castiel just a bit to reach over into his bedside drawer and pull out the lube and condoms that had rested there untouched for the past two weeks.

He returns into his previous position quickly, lifting up his legs eagerly and licking his lips at the sight of Cas crouching back between them. The thought of feeling him inside of his body again would be enough to send him over the edge, he is that sensitive.

“Can't wait for you to fuck me again, Cas,” he gasps out just as Cas licks over his length again, the last few words drowning in low moans “Want you to, want you so bad.”

~~~

Cas shudders at Dean’s words, moaning and pushing the fingers harder inside of him, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin on the inside of Dean’s thigh. He sits up then and grabs the lube with his free hand, popping the cap open with his thumb before drizzling the cold clear liquid down his fingers, watching with wide eyes and rapt attention as it slides down his fingers and then inside Dean as he scissors them.

“Dean...so beautiful,” he murmurs softly...eyes trailing up Dean’s torso to his face. Castiel pushes the fingers home again, smiling slow and wide when Dean cries out and arches his back, begs for more, harder, faster. Castiel doesn’t give it to him though, just takes it at a slow even pace, until Dean’s ready for three fingers. It’s a stretch, and he knows it burns from the hiss Dean gives him, so he quickly ducks down and sucks Dean’s cock back into his mouth, working him until he’s fully hard again, and moaning even with three fingers inside him.  
It had been two long...Castiel slowly pulls his hand back when he thinks Dean is ready, and grabs the condom, ripping the package open with shaking hands.

“Ready?” He asks as he rolls it down to the base, pressing it there and holding his cock tight, aching but not wanting this to be over too soon.

~~~

Dean's eyes follow his lover's every move, he watches him spread him open and rolling the condom on and at the hesitant question Dean can only chuckle.

“Mister, I've been born ready.”

Cas looks back down at him with a raised eyebrow, then huffs out a laugh and slaps Dean's ass lightly.

“I mean it...I'm ready, Cas. I need you.”

And then he's there, back where he belongs and Dean is torn apart and melded together all at once. The rhythm they build is slow and languid, maybe a little too carefree considering the time and the crucial task that awaits them in the morning but neither of them cares. Time ticks away and the thrusts become stronger, faster and Dean's breathing changes from a constant sweet moan to frantic gasps.

“Cas-..oh..a-almost there...”

~~~

Castiel leans over Dean, caging him in with forearms braced on the bed on either side of Dean’s face. He kisses Dean deep now, matching his thrusts inside his lover, pushing and hard. It takes take long for his own orgasm to catch up to him, building in a coiling heat in his low belly, tingling up his spine and threatening to overtake him at any moment.

“Dean..m-..me too, ..fuck-” he gasps, kisses Dean again, hard, biting, grabs Dean’s hands in his and threads their fingers together, not so much pining Dean to the bed as holding onto him as he whimpers out Dean’s name again.

“So close-..f..fuck Dean,” Castiel manages to let go with one hand and reach between them, get his fingers around Dean's dick to stroke him in jerky movements, matching his hips now.

"Dean...Dean...god _...Dean_!" Castiel groans, the sound loud as he pushes home inside of Dean and comes, gasping and choking as he buries his face against the other man's throat, and tries to keep stroking his hand over Dean's cock as lights dance in his vision

~~~

It doesn't take much more and Dean is coming too, noisy and so full of relief and Dean sees stars for the first time in weeks. Afterward they lie together in comfortable silence, Cas wrapped around Dean's body almost completely while Dean's just lying there breathing in the strong smell of sex on both of their skin. They don't make it to the shower, Dean thinks Cas slips out of bed once to discard the condom but then he's back, solid and warm against his sweaty body and they fall asleep like this, lovers, finally again.


	21. Dean Winchester: professional matyr

Morning comes too quickly and Dean tries so hard to stay asleep, to keep his eyes closed, his body hidden underneath the covers. But this is an important day. Cas' important day. When Dean pries open one eye the alarm clock on the bedside table shows 5:30 and Dean groans and turns on his other side, pulling the blanket back over his head. Usually he would wait for Cas to beckon him out of bed, to bring him coffee and kiss the grumpiness off his face. But today Dean takes a deep breath, folds back the blanket and slips out of bed by himself. He finds Cas in the kitchen, stoically staring at the coffee machine and Dean steps close to him, hugging him carefully from behind.

“Good morning,” he says and a dozen unspoken questions hang in the air.

'How are you feeling? Do you think we can do this? Will we end this today? When will everything be back to normal?'

Dean slips away to get a coffee mug and rummages around in the almost empty fridge for a couple of eggs and bacon, turning on the stove to make scrambled eggs. He thinks for now it would be better to leave Castiel alone, let him sort out his thoughts and decide when he was ready to talk.

~~~

Castiel’s shoulders were stiff and tense when Dean walked into the kitchen, but the second those freckled forearms were wrapped around his waist, it’s like someone’s cut his strings. He melts back against Dean with a soft sigh, turning his head to the side to kiss Dean once before he slips away to grab breakfast.

“Good morning Dean,” he replies, watching the other man for a brief moment, before he grabs himself some food as well. They shower together, and it’s in silence, gentle touches and slow, wet kisses as the hot water falls on them both. They don’t start anything, both of them too worried to think about anything but what was to come. Dressing goes quickly, and Castiel actually manages to find a pair of his pants, and a shirt he’d forgotten in the past month at Dean’s, hung up in the closet washed and ironed. A blush hits his cheeks, and  the idea that Dean had managed to find time to do this for Castiel, when often his own shirts weren’t perfectly pressed, makes his chest tighten.

They each grab a thermos of coffee and head out the door at 6:30, making it to the precinct by 7:05, were the Chief and the task force was already swinging into motion.

Today was going to be big, and the energy that vibrated through the office, nervous and jittery, was palpable.

“Winchester, Novak! My office, now!” Chief Turner barked at them both, and Castiel hurried to shrug off his coat, leaving the mug of coffee on his desk and shooting Dean a worried look before they both walked to the Chief’s office.

“Take a seat.”

Castiel sits down and immediately the Chief launches in to an explanation of how important this was, and how they couldn’t afford any screw ups that could cost the Chief time, money, or men.

“I’ve been hearing rumors about tension between the two of you. Is there any basis to them, do I have to be worried about you when we’re out there today?”

~~~

It's not like they had kept what's going on between them a secret but Dean still is surprised to have the chief confront them directly about it. It takes him a second to adjust and find his voice but then he sits up straight, his voice taking on a serious and honest tone.

“Let me assure you that everything is fine, sir. There won't be any problems.”

Rufus holds his gaze for a long moment before he lets out a low grunt and nods.

“I'll take your word, Winchester. Don't fuck this up!”

They leave the office with a tense feeling, the chief's speech still ringing in their ears.

This is it. It's the closest they've come to catching Azazel, the closest they ever were to stopping his dark deeds. If they screwed this up in any way it would be close to impossible to make it this far again in a considerable time.

They join the task force in the underground parking lot and board the dark blue van, taking a seat on the narrow benches opposite to each other. It would be Castiel's call and Dean knows that he not only earned his place as commanding officer but that he wants to be here, needs to be with the team that takes Azazel into custody. And it's not like Dean doesn't understand but he only agreed to join them as a lookout, as last resort back-up. He had to promise Cas and swear to the chief to stay in the van and keep his eyes and the line to the task force open. The van rattles over something that sounds like gravel and Dean swallows heavily, searching Castiel's eyes but the other man has lowered his head in concentration and it makes Dean even more nervous.

~~~

They’d done their checks of their weapons, the SWAT teams all had on their gear, and even Castiel had put on a bullet proof vest under his button up shirt. They were ready for this to happen.

The convoy was making its way into the city, radio crackling as the marshalls who were transporting the blonde decoy let Castiel’s team know they were five minutes from the rendezvous point.

“Alright guys, get ready, this could turn ugly.”

He hops out of the van at a stop sign and runs to the car they’d had waiting for him, a marshall in the front passenger seat posing as his partner. They continue on to the empty parking lot where they’d agreed to meet while the van headed off to the side, concealed by one of the abandoned warehouses that surrounded the meeting point. The buildings had already checked and secured earlier in the morning by a second SWAT team, and snipers were already posted on the roofs of strategic locations. Castiel’s heart was still beating like crazy though, his nerves rattled from the mere idea of catching Azazel- of all the pain and heartache that the piece of shit would cause in the future being stopped here in this moment.

Castiel turns the car off and gets out, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck tickle from being watched by so many eyes. The marshalls in the other car get out as well, nodding to Castiel.

“Passcode?”

“Tiger Lily.”

“Alright, he’s good, let’s go…Come on Jessica,” the marshall says as he opens the door to the backseat, and that’s when it happens- 3 large black SUVS roll up, windows tinted, tires screeching to a halt. The marshalls and Castiel all draw their weapons, taking defensive positions behind car doors, knowing their back were covered by the SWAT team in hiding, but still feeling incredibly unprotected out in the open like this.

The door to the passenger side of one of the SUVs opens, and that seems to be the signal, as suddenly there was 15 or so men climbing out of the cars, guns drawn, brows furrowed as they glared at the four men who stood between them and their prize.

A fourth car pulls up from the rear, and stops a mere 10 yards from where Castiel and the marshalls stood their ground. It was a stretch limo, and the man in the back doesn’t even wait for the driver to get out and open the door; he throws the door open and climbs out, stretching lazily and yawning, smacking his lips as he looks over at the police men who had been ruining his fun as of late.

“Detective Novak…so lovely to see you again,” Azazel drawls, and Castiel feels the skin on the back of his neck crawl at the smile that the trafficking lord gives him.

“Azazel….you and your men are making a big mistake here. You should give yourself up-“

Azazel laughs, and it’s a wicked, dark mocking sound. Castiel grits his teeth, lip peeling back in anger at the man.

“Give myself- Detective, PLEASE…Do you not see the _crew_  of men behind you with AK47s?”

Castiel’s fingers flex, and he so badly wants to take the shot, wants to just take Azazel out then and there, but the man is still standing behind the door of his limo, arms draped lazily over it and the roof, propped up like he’s just talking casually to a friend. Castiel knows by the time he fired he wouldn’t be able to get out of the way of the barrage of bullets that would come from behind him. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, and the only way out is if Azazel and his men give it up.

“You can’t have her.”

“Oh, but I already did, you see. Jessica was _mine_ , and you so cruelly took her from me Detective.”

“She ran away from you, you sick bastard!” Castiel shouts at him, and Azazel’s smile only gets wider.

“Mm…we’ll see who she wants to go with, by the time we’re through with you.”

He motions to his men, and the sound of over a dozen safeties being turned off is deafening.

“One last chance Azazel. Turn yourself in.”

“HAH.”

“Fine, have it your way,” Castiel snarls, and then speaks loud enough for the hidden mike on his shirt to pick up. “Green light.”

2 dozen men appear at the top of the buildings around them, scopes flashing in the morning light, along with another dozen or so that appear on the ground from around buildings, all in riot gear, ready for the fire fight that they suspected would be coming.

Azazel’s eyes go wide, and he lets out a shriek of anger, before turning back to Castiel.

“YOU!”

Castiel can’t help but grin.

“This is for Balthazar, you fuck.”

Azazel makes a motion then, a sound like a dying animal leaving his lips, and his men all start firing. The sound is horrific. Castiel and the marshalls, along with the decoy, all dive for cover behind the cars, even though they were now face to face with Azazel and his driver, along with one enormous body guard who had decided to join in the fray.

Snipers take out the guard and the marshall Castiel was with manages to get the driver, leaving only Azazel, who had flung himself back inside the limo to hide while the guns continued to blaze. It doesn’t take long though, for the thugs who were behind them to either be dispatched by the snipers, or for them to surrender and toss their weapon away, get down on their knees with their hands behind their heads.

Which only leaves Azazel.

~~~

It's terrifying. Dean forces himself to watch, to keep his eyes on Castiel, on the scene that plays out in front of him. Bodies are dropping right and left and Dean loses track of how many of their men and how many of Azazel's thugs succumb to the sharp and absolute pain of a bullet piercing their skin. There's blood and screams and gunfire and Dean wants to cover his eyes, wants to cover his ears but he can't stop looking, he won't stop – and then it's quiet. The enemy is overpowered, they won. Castiel is smiling triumphantly, walking slowly towards the car where an unarmed Azazel took cover and is now slowly crawling back out to face the man whose life he almost destroyed once. Castiel grabs him, maybe a little too hard, but there really isn't anyone giving a damn at this point, and cuffing his hands behind his back and despite all of it Dean just can't help but feeling uneasy.

And then there's a shadow, the slightest movement behind thick tinted windows and Dean opens his mouth but no sound makes it past his lips. He's up on his feet and out of the van in a matter of seconds, stumbling over gravel, dust whirling around his boots and he's running, heart pounding against his ribs as the shadow moves again and Cas doesn't see, he doesn't realize, he's too preoccupied, too confident and Dean will lose him but he can't. Not again, not ever again. When Dean sees him it's like ice water being poured over his head, a wave of soul-crushing, all-consuming clarity. Andy looks flustered and frantic, droplets of sweat running down his temples and he's holding a gun, pointed at Castiel who only now realizes that this isn't going as smoothly as he'd thought.

The next few seconds are a blur. He thinks he finally yells at Cas to look out but he can't be sure. Then he's there, in front of him and Andy's yelling something and pulls the trigger and the force of his bullet throws Dean back against Cas' body. A burst of gunfire fills the morning air and Andy collapses behind the car. Dean can see him from where he himself is lying on the warm, dusty ground. Cas is above him, shouting and there's terror in his eyes. He wants to say something but there's a weight on his chest and he feels like he won't ever be able to breathe again.

~~~

It all happens so fast…one second he’s slapping cuffs on Azazel, his heart soaring and his chest lighter than it had been in years. And the next there’s shouting and shoving and gunshots once again. He lands on the ground hard, Azazel going stumbling down in front of him, and it only takes a few seconds before he registers what happened.

Andy, the intern, was dead on the ground behind them. He was the mole, had been all along. The realization sends ice water down Castiel’s spine, but then his eyes shift to Dean- Dean who had a hole in his shirt, Dean who was lying on his back, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, throat working but nothing coming out.

“Dean!”

Castiel scrambles over the pavement, ignoring the cut of gravel in his knees through dress pants, palms scratched raw and bleeding from his tumble to the ground.

“Dean, Dean, FUCK- oh god oh god, no!” Castiel is screaming, wailing, as he reaches for Dean and rips open the shirt, the undershirt underneath giving way easily too. There’s no blood though, merely a black kevlar vest, a bullet embedded deep in the material, almost through the other side. Castiel’s breath shudders out of him, and he can’t even see for a second, black spots dancing in his vision as he clings to his lover.

He’d thought that Dean was gone…that he’d lost him. Castiel had a split second where the panic was so real, the idea that he’d managed to get two partners, two lovers, killed, in the span of a year.

He breaks down, sobbing and pulling Dean up into his arms, hands clinging like claws to the back of Dean’s suit jacket, unable to even let go when the medics get there moments later, having been on standby as well, just behind one of the buildings. They load Dean and Castiel into an ambulance, and take them away, and Castiel can’t even spare a single thought back to the chaos they’d left behind; he doesn’t even think of Azazel.

All he can see is Dean; Dean who was miraculously still alive, after a point blank range bullet that should have killed him, even with the vest on, having just defied all the odds to save Castiel’s life and risk his own at the same time.

“Y-you idiot,” he whispers, leaning over to kiss Dean’s forehead, the oxygen mask they put on him preventing Cas from doing what he really wanted.

~~~

Castiel is a mess. His hair is all over the place and there’s dirt and blood on his knees and arms as he stumbles over to help him. Dean tries to smile up at him but he thinks his face more resembles a horrific mask and whatever cheeky remark he’d wanted to utter dies on his tongue. He closes his eyes then because the pain in his chest is just too much. He’s still awake though and hearing Cas sobbing above him, being unable to reach up and soothe him is almost unbearable. He becomes unconscious at some point, only managing to open his eyes when the gurney gets picked up and he’s heaved out of the ambulance and rolled inside the hospital. Cas is still by his side and the terror on his face is undeniable as he practically runs side by side with Dean’s gurney until he’s stopped by a nurse. They take Dean away from him, the last thing he sees is Cas shouting at the people hindering him from following Dean. Then the oxygen mask is removed and replaced by another and Dean’s eyes fall shut again to the chinking sound of metal instruments and a sharp unpleasant smell.


	22. Together

When he wakes up the sky outside is dark and his head hurts like hell. All he can hear is the low beeping sound of a machine next to his bed. A hospital, again. Dean wants to fucking throw a fit. After everything he went through with Alastair he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to wake up in a hospital bed any time soon. Unlike that last time though, Cas isn’t there with him. Sunken down in a chair next to his bed is Ellen, Bobby standing behind her, a hand on her shoulder. Dean already knows this incident would earn him a slap on the back of his head at least. But when he coughs and slowly sits up Ellen’s face lights up and even Bobby manages a relieved smile and Dean lets out a muffled gasp as his mother slings her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her body.

“You fucking idiot,” is the first thing she says and it is – he knew it – accompanied by a soft slap “I’m so sick and tired of you playing the goddamn hero, Dean, think of your poor mother’s heart for once, will you?”

Bobby leaves the room with a curt nod and returns with a doctor and nurse in tow, who check on him and inform him about his condition. Andy’s bullet should have gone straight through the vest, the distance was too little and the shot, while shaky, a perfect aim, the perfect clear line of fire. ‘It’s a miracle!’ Ellen exclaims several times under her breath and Dean can’t say he disagrees. When he asks about Castiel the people in the room become silent, exchanging meaningful looks before getting up one by one to leave. Ellen pauses for a moment, then bends down to kiss her son’s forehead. Then she leaves as well and the room is quiet except for the steady beeping sounds of the machines. The first thing Dean notices when Cas steps inside the room is that he still doesn’t look good, possibly even worse than before. The cuts on his arms haven’t been tended to yet and look ghastly. His hair is all over the place and he’s still wearing all of the clothes he was wearing for the ambush. He makes his way over to Dean’s bed carefully, as if every step took him closer to something terrible. Dean lifts a hand from the mattress, ignoring the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

“There you are,” he rasps out, actually a little freaked about how hoarse he sounds “What’s with the long face, huh?”

~~~

Castiel had spent the entire time that Dean was asleep out of his mind with worry. He’d made himself sick with it, and ended up spending more time in the bathroom, puking until all that was left was bile, than at Dean’s side. Which is how it comes to be that when Dean finally does wake up, Castiel isn’t there like he’d wanted to be. The coat he’d been wearing was draped over the chair next to Dean’s bed, spattered and soaked through with blood, yet again, and very idea of whose blood it had been the last time the coat had gotten stained like this, and what had occurred then, had sent Castiel into a panic attack in the hallway. The hospital staff had asked if he wanted something to calm him down, but he’d refused, wanting to keep his wits about him while Dean was still unconscious.

Dean had a few cracked ribs where the bullet had hit, and extensive bruising, but other than that, he was fine. The Doctor had called it a miracle.

Castiel hadn’t been able to relax, even after they’d told him Dean would be fine. All he knew was that yet again, he’d been holding a man he loved in his arms, terrified that those moments of pain and anguish would be their last.

So when he comes back from the bathroom and Dean’s awake, the bed sitting up slightly, a smirk on his lips, no one could blame Castiel for bursting into tears at Dean’s bedside. He’d been so frightened that those green eyes would never open again, that the Doctors had been wrong, and something was going to go sideways and he’d lose Dean forever.

“You…you asshole,” he sobs, leaning down to kiss Dean’s forehead, trembling lips pressed there twice before he moves down and kisses Dean gently, one hand coming up to cup the side of Dean’s face, ground them both in the moment.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispers, kissing Dean again, and again, ignoring the beeping of the monitors and the bustle outside the door of nurses and staff moving past. He brushes a thumb across Dean’s cheekbone, breathing shallow and quick as he feels all the emotions he had yet to let go of come tumbling out of him.

“You scared me…I can’t-…You’re such an asshole Dean…I thought you were gone…I thought I’d…I’d lost another partner,” he says through a tight throat, vision blurred from the tears that kept coming, dripping scalding hot down his cheeks. The words ‘another lover’ go unsaid, but they hang in the air all the same, heavy and real.

~~~

Dean holds Cas as he cries and each tear, each hoarse sob is like a stab to his heart.

“I'm really sorry,” he whispers after a while when Cas is merely breathing quietly against his shoulder, clinging onto him like Dean would slip away somehow if he didn't “But hey, give me some credit – I saved your life, man.”

He moves backwards a little, blinking away his own tears and cracking a smile at Cas who looks back at him with that adorable bewilderment and he can't not lean back in and kiss it from his face. His hands are on Castiel's cheeks and he doesn't let him go until they're both breathless and gasping for air against each other's mouths.

“I'd say,” he grins and licks his lips “I'd say we're even, Cas.”

~~~

Castiel is clinging to Dean, being as careful as he can not to jostle any of the multitude of wires and tubes that come from Dean’s body, making his partner seem more like a science experiment than someone recovering from a gunshot wound.

“Yeah...we’re even…and don’t you ever, _ever_  do that again,” Castiel says, pressing his forehead against Dean’s. The idea that he’d almost lost Dean wasn’t fading from his mind, even now that Dean was obviously alive and well on his way to recovered. It was all too fresh, and he just couldn’t get his hands to unclench from around the man’s hospital gown.

“I’m staying here with you,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through Dean’s hair, and he’s thankful when they both ignore how badly he’s shaking.

“I already talked to the head nurse…she said as long as I was quiet, I could stay,” Castiel sighs, and finally manages to pull back enough that he can look up into Dean’s eyes, his own red rimmed and bright with unshed tears, defying the dark circles beneath them by appearing hopeful.

“…Dean…you need to know that even thinking I lost you-…it almost broke me. I can’t- you can’t do that to me again, okay? Ever. I need to know that you’re going to be around,” Castiel says softly, fingers unclenching around the fabric they had been holding, stiff and creaky. He brings a hand up to grasp the side of Dean’s neck, bring him in for another kiss, slow and tentative, as if Castiel wasn’t sure suddenly that he still had permission to do this.

~~~

Dean should argue, he knows; but Cas is so warm against him and he sounds so broken and alone and if he's perfectly honest with himself Dean doesn't want Cas to leave. Ever. So he pulls him closer and returns the careful press of lips, grabbing at Castiel's lapels and the back of his neck to get him as close as possible. They stay like this for a while until both of them are breathless and they only look up when there's soft laughter from the other side of the room. Sam and Jo stand on the corridor, peeking inside with a warm smile on their faces and Dean tries to sit up a little more straight to flip them the bird.

“Are we interrupting anything?” Sam asks and his grin gets even wider as he and his sister step inside.

Dean is grumbling next to Cas, who's blushing furiously, and when his siblings flop down in the chairs on the window side of the room he lets out an aggravated sigh.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm a little busy making out with my boyfriend here.”

The words come out without him really thinking about them and he knows that the term 'boyfriend' isn't something they'd discussed or agreed on yet. It sounds strange and Dean isn't sure if that's because they hadn't talked about where they stand or simply because the word itself sounded so goddamn ridiculous. Boyfriend. Is Cas his boyfriend? He did say that the mere thought of losing Dean had scared him, that he couldn't bear being apart from him. Thinking about it that sure sounded serious and Dean feels his own cheeks burn.

Despite everything his brother and sister choose to ignore the not-so-subtle hint to take a powder. Their parents had left after they made way for Castiel but promised to be back the next day, so Sam and Jo explained that they saw it as their duty to 'represent the family' and 'make your life miserable for scaring the shit out of us again'. Cas stays, holding onto Dean's hand the whole time and Dean can barely stop smiling at that. When the nurse shows up and reminds them that visiting hours were over, Dean's siblings eventually get up and leave, not without patting Dean's good shoulder and ruffling through his hair amicably. The door closes and Dean lets out a sigh, closing his eyes and shaking his head gently at his weird family. Cas is looking at him when he opens his eyes again and Dean returns the soft smile he gives him.

“So where you're gonna sleep, huh?”

~~~

The visitation with Dean’s siblings is…eye opening, to say the least. Dean being the eldest, and thus the one responsibility was forced upon from the time he was little, explains a lot of Dean’s care taking tendencies. Even from where he’s sitting, attached to an IV bag and a heart monitor and who knows what else, Dean was still barking orders at his brother and sister; Castiel fond it endearing, which scared him a little bit. He sits back in his chair, relaxing finally, as both Sam and Jo are shooed out of the room.

“What?” Castiel is snapped out of his thoughts by Dean’s voice, and he blinks for a second before realizing what Dean had actually asked.

“I, um…the nurse said she’d bring in a chair that reclined for me, I should go check on that…,” He stands up and hesitates, hand still held in Dean’s own. Castiel squeezes gently, and then lets go, before walking to the door and ducking out in search of the head nurse, leaving Dean alone in the quiet room for the first time since he’d woken up hours earlier.

Castiel comes back fifteen minutes later, loaded down with a tray full of food, and a folding chair under one arm, balancing everything awkwardly and proving that he would in no way make a good waitress. He sets the tray of food down first, on the hospital table that was built to slide over the bed Dean was in, before he gets to work on the chair. It’s set up beside Dean’s bed, nearest to the door, and Castiel pulls blankets and pillows out of the cupboard near the door for himself, before turning to look at Dean once more, eyebrows knitted up and together in the center of his forehead. He looks worried, and a little nervous, as he clutches a pillow to his chest. Castiel could easily pass for a stubbly faced 10 year old on his first sleep over, unsure of himself, and a little worried he was going to do something wrong, and never be allowed back.

“Do you need anything Dean? Another pillow?...are you cold at all?”

~~~

He watches Castiel leave the room without getting the chance to say anything and the sudden silence is like a punch in the gut. He looks around a little helplessly, trying to make out something through the yellowed curtains. Maybe five minutes later the door opens and the nurse shuffles inside to give him his medication and check his bandages. She leaves then and Dean is alone again until Castiel eventually returns with food and what looks like the most pathetic chair Dean has ever seen. Dean picks at his food a little listless, swallowing a few bites before pushing the table out of the way and watching a little incredulously how Cas tries to put down the tray. And really – the awkward fumbling with the chair would make him laugh if it didn't bother him so much.

“Cas,” he says, trying to interrupt Castiel's constant gush of words, repeating “Cas!” a little louder when he doesn't seem to notice “Cas, I'm okay. I'm alive, my chest hurts a little but I'm not dead. Nor an invalid. And you are not gonna sleep on that...thing.”

He lifts a hand to shush Cas as he tries to object and quickly sits up, cringing at the sharp pain shooting right through his body at the sudden movement. His bed isn't big and it's certainly not a twin but those chairs looked like the most uncomfortable thing, making even the floor look more suitable. It's cramped, to say the least and Dean has to lie on his right turned away from Castiel's body behind him in order to not entangle the IV tube. So it's not the most comfortable and romantic night together but they're here, Cas' arms wrapped carefully around Dean's waist and Dean can feel him breathing against his neck and in its own way it's perfect.

“So,” he says after a while and he's not entirely sure if Cas is even still awake “Are you? I mean... what are we, Cas, hm?”

~~~

Castiel is quiet for a moment, just rolling the question over and over in his mind, before he finally swallows around the dryness in his mouth and speaks.

“We’re together,” he says slowly, his voice carefully, meticulously calm.

“…if you want us to be, we’re together,” he continues, and then sighs softly and squeezes Dean just enough to get his point across, “I want us to be, Dean. I want you, and I’m not going to pretend that I don’t anymore. You mean far too much to me to do that.”

He’s quiet again for a long time, pressing his lips gently against the back of Dean’s neck, just breathing in his scent. Under the sterile smells of the hospital, Dean was still there, all warmth and sun and spice. It made everything that was held tight inside of Castiel slowly uncoil, lie pliant and boneless inside of him, relaxed finally after a long, torturous day.

~~~

“Together.”

The word sounds strange, unfamiliar on his tongue and it shouldn’t. They’ve been together for some while now, standing close, holding each other’s hands and kissing in public. So it’s not that this is new or surprising. It’s just… hearing it from Castiel, knowing that he openly decided to finally acknowledge what’s been between them since that moment Dean first waltzed into the chief’s office and got assigned to the case that nearly cost him his life twice – it’s different, meaningful. Dean closes his eyes and breathes in slowly, the word dancing behind closed lids.

“Yeah,” he then says and his smile is clearly audible “We’re together.”

He feels Castiel relax against his back, lets his warm breath tickle the short hair in his neck and moves a hand down to gently brush Castiel’s.

“I love you Cas.”


	23. The job or Dean

His back hurts. Actually, pretty much his whole body hurts. Dean blinks against the bright sunlight filling the room and tries moving but Castiel’s arms around his body keep him sort of trapped. It takes another five minutes and some increasingly pissed off moaning for him to wake Cas up and get him to remove his limbs and by the time Cas got up and out of bed Dean is wide awake and not amused. The nurse appears a couple of seconds after Dean pressed the button to call her and helps him up and to the restroom and when Dean returns Cas is sitting on his ridiculous hospital chair/folding chair contraption, looking all disheveled and guilty. Dean climbs back into bed a little reluctantly and lets the nurse pull the bedside table over to place a tray with food on it. She leaves then and Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“C’mon,” he says without looking at Cas but holding a fork with scrambled eggs in his direction.

They eat in silence and Dean lets Cas have his apple and the yoghurt and half an hour later he even manages to sort of apologize for being so gruff. He’d really have to work on his morning grouchiness if he wanted this to be a success. It’s not Cas’ fault that he’s in pain, well, he did save his life but it was his own call so he really had to blame himself. Or Andy. Yes, this was totally Andy’s fault. Dean didn’t really have the time to process all this properly. Andy – sweet, quiet, mousy Andy – who he had lunch or a beer with countless times. Never in a thousand years he would have expected this kid to work for Azazel. He just wonders what his reasons were and if they would ever find out. He asks Cas about him and swallows around the lump in his throat when Cas states that Andy died on site.

“What about Jess?” he then asks and his voice is a little more quiet, more careful.

He knows that Cas cares about this girl, even though Dean never quite got why. Maybe it’s because Cas knows what it feels like to grow up without a mother, a father. Sure, Castiel’s situation had been different but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel for this girl. So yeah, Dean thinks, maybe he does understand why he wants to make sure she’s alright.

Cas clears his throat then and talks about how after Azazel and his men had been taken in, Jess had been transferred down to LA. She's still in protective custody and Cas doesn't know where exactly but he knows she’s alright and eager to see them and nail down the man who killed her parents and stole so much precious time. The relief over Jess being okay is clear in Castiel's voice and it makes Dean feel a sudden rush of affection for the other man.

 ~

On the second day the chief and some guys from the precinct show up with champagne to celebrate the huge breakthrough. The mole is dead, Jessica Moore is safe and Azazel plus some of his high-ranked associates are in custody.

They release him after a week and Dean thinks he might never lie down in a bed again, his butt hurts that much from lying down all the time. Cas is there to take him home – apparently he had to practically bribe Dean’s family to stay home and let him handle this and Dean grins at the slight blush that spreads on Cas’ cheeks as he tells Dean that – and they stop only once to get a burger at Denny’s on the way. Cas had gone back to work on the third day and he says their office looks much better now, the irrelevant files stuffed back in the basement where they belonged and most of their walls free off clippings and possible links between suspects. The men in custody had slowly started spilling secrets, even if Azazel himself still played the innocent little lamb, and it’s only a matter of time until this whole operation would all crumble down around him.

Dean slumps down on the couch on his belly with a loud sigh which turns into a comfortable purr when Cas leans down and starts massaging his tense shoulders.

“Finally home,” Dean mumbles against the soft pillow and sighs again “We need to have sex asap.”

Cas pauses at that and Dean grumbles, wiggling his shoulders and protesting “Not yet, don’t stop. I’ve been horny for a week, I can wait another half an hour.”

~~~

Castiel was glad to be home. He’d had a tough time with Dean being in the hospital, yet again, and he hadn’t slept well at all. He was tired, and sore from sleeping cramped up in a tiny bed, or on a crappy folding chair. So Dean telling him that they don’t have to have sex that minute was kind of a blessing. He wanted to (god did he want to), but the idea of just moving slowly into it was much more appealing to him than jumping up and going at it like crazed teenagers, as was their usual.

He smiles softly and continues kneading Dean’s shoulders, digging into the knots and working them out with gentle, firm pressure of his thumbs and the palms of his hands.

“Whatever you want, Dean…,” he murmurs softly, dropping a kiss to the side of Dean’s neck.

The past week hadn’t been all relaxing by Dean’s side either. Castiel had been ordered in for a debriefing, and he had spent well over four hours talking with the chief and a record keeper, going over the ambush, and how well the plan had gone. He’d also been instructed to see the counselor, as it was a requirement anytime someone had to fire their gun, and he’d witnessed the death of a co-worker on top of that. Counseling was yet another thing he wasn’t looking forward to, when they managed to get back to work.

The cat was out of the bag on their relationship too; Castiel had taken vacation time to stay with Dean at the hospital, and with that the rumors of them being together were all but confirmed.

He sighs and turns his thoughts back to Dean, the freckled man’s flesh beneath his fingers. Castiel smirks to himself and leans down again, brushing his lips over Dean’s neck, kissing gently and murmuring his partner’s name.

“Feeling better?”

~~~

“Mmh...much better,” Dean purrs and shifts a little under Castiel's ministrations.

The longer the other man kept kneading his shoulders and back, the more relaxed and warm Dean feels and his soft sighs become low moans when Cas' hands brush over his lower back and buttocks. He shudders at the sensation and bites his lip to keep himself from moaning, which frankly isn't successful at all, and he can almost hear the smile in Castiel's voice as he asks “Everything alright?”

“You know damn well I'm alri- aah...”

He shudders again and flips himself over on his back, his legs wrapping around Castiel's hips to pull him close to his own body. Their lips touch and Dean kisses that smug grin off his lover's face with small licks and soft bites. Castiel is so warm against him and Dean thinks he would be content if they could continue kissing like this forever.

~~~

Castiel grins when Dean flips himself over, grabs him and brings him down for biting kisses. He smiles into it, and then lowers himself, slowly grinding his body down against Dean’s own, their hips slotting together, cocks hard and pressed close through layers of fabric. Castiel moans softly, leaning back just enough to take off his shirt, helping Dean with his as well, until so much pale freckled skin was revealed that it made Castiel lick his lips. He couldn’t get enough of Dean, every inch of his body screaming to be connected to Dean’s.

He kisses Dean slowly, tongue sliding in and tangling, hands brushing down and over Dean’s waist to work at his pants, belt buckle coming undone with a rough tug of his hands. Castiel needed Dean naked, underneath him, now. He works quickly, unbuttoning and unzipping Dean while still trading short deep kisses, whispering to each other in heated voices.

“Dean…no idea how much I want you, do you? So fucking gorgeous like this…”

~~~

Dean doesn't speak much other than hoarse praises of 'yes' and 'more' and 'Cas'. They're both naked soon, skin sliding against skin and Dean sighs in relief, so unbelievably greedy for any and all touches the other man would bestow upon him. He writhes underneath Castiel's firm body and grinds his cock against his lover's hip with lazy precision. The moan he gets in return is sweet and sticky and Dean licks it off Castiel's lips and does it again and again. They're panting now, their ragged breaths and soft mewls the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment.

“Cas,” Dean gasps when the other man bites at his neck and his whole body starts tingling.

His fingers grip Castiel's shoulders and pull him in, closer, and Cas licks over the patch of skin he just nibbled on, soothing the irritated skin and sucking on it until Dean is nothing but a quivering mess.

“Cas!” he exclaims once more and by now his hips are moving on their own accord, frantic, desperate for friction and closeness and release.

~~~

Castiel is breathless with how beautiful Dean looks, writhing beneath him, arching up for more, for anything that Cas will give him. He kisses Dean slowly, pushing their hips together in a slow grind, rolling down against him in a rhythm that gets lost as Castiel’s own orgasm approaches.

“Dean-“ Castiel gasps, shuddering, his back flexing, arms stiff as he tries to hold his weight up over Dean’s body, his feet pushing and digging into the cushions of the couch for leverage. He reaches down and grabs Dean’s leg, hiking it up and over his own, grinning against Dean’s lips when his lover easily wraps it around his waist.

“Yeah, like that,” Castiel moans, nipping down Dean’s neck to suck at his adam’s apple. He could feel Dean swallow beneath his lips, throat dry as he pants out Castiel’s name over and over.

“Want to see you come,” Cas whispers, pushing his hips down harder, fingers gripping at Dean’s ass to bring his hips up, press them together so not even air was between them as they rolled against one another. Castiel was so close the heat inside him was boiling over, and he could feel sweat trickling down his back, slicking the back of his knees and making their stomachs slide over each other in a perfect mix of slip and friction.

~~~

It's filthy and wonderful, the way their bodies fit against each other and Dean smiles at that thought. Perfect, nothing more and nothing less. If he had a single ounce of clarity left he would think back to how it began, how he and Cas had fought over the smallest things, how Cas had shut him and everyone else out and buried himself in grief and how slowly but surely he'd let Dean crack the walls of his façade. Instead there's only the feeling of Cas above him, his hips colliding with Dean's own and then he's coming, lips parted in a silent 'o' before a long-stretched cry escapes his throat and he's painting their stomachs white. Cas is panting above him, too, breathless and sweaty, eyes wide in what looks nothing short of awe.

“Cas, Cas,” Dean weeps, his cock limp against his thigh but his body still so very sensitive, trembling with each sharp thrust of Castiel's hips “C'mon Cas, come for me...”

~~~

Cas follows Dean’s order easily, a broken sound coming out of his mouth as his hips stutter down against Dean’s body and still, shivering as he comes between them, just making everything that much more messy, wet and rapidly cooling on their stomachs.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, body shaking as he carefully shifts back, and then flops onto his back on the other end of the couch, still breathing hard as he stares at Dean. Castiel is silent for a long moment, muscles humming with energy, the pleasure of the orgasm slowly dissipating through his limbs.

“We should shower,” he says softly after a moment of silence passes between them. He stands up and then helps Dean to his feet, the pair of them shuffling carefully to the bathroom, careful not to let any of their release drip off their bodies and onto the ground.

~~~

They take their time with the shower, standing underneath the hot spray of water and letting it cleanse their bodies. Dean lifts a hand to pull Cas closer, the jet of water hitting the back of his head and washing away the sweat on Castiel's face and neck. Dean smiles and leans into a soft kiss as he feels Castiel's hands on his own body, tracing the sticky fluid and washing it away. They're not sure how much time passes but when they both are clean and warm they step out of the shower and dry each other off gently. Stumbling over to the bedroom and slipping underneath the covers is literally the last and only thing either of them is able to do and when Dean snuggles close to his boyfriend – his boyfriend – he can't suppress his happiness.

“I love you, Castiel,” he whispers against his lovers collarbone as his eyes drift shut and then everything fades over to sweet, black nothingness.

~

Dean must possess some superpower. There simply is no other explanation as to why his body's healing that fast. Maybe, the doctor at his second check-up had joked, his body got used to being injured and Dean had put on a crooked smile and rolled his eyes at Cas, who seemed genuinely repulsed. Afterward Dean had to all but restrain Cas from suing the man for inappropriate and hurtful behavior towards a patient (even if Dean isn't exactly sure that's a thing).

Cas is so protective of him these days and while it's sweet it is also a bit annoying, if he's totally honest. When he slips out of bed at fuck o'clock in the morning to try to get groceries, Cas is there too, startled awake by the sudden movement and Dean has to take a deep breath and push the other man back into bed again, before telling him that he's well over 20 and that he'll be able to get some eggs and bacon by himself, thank you very much. Castiel doesn't seem happy about it but he sinks back into bed and watches Dean get dressed, grumbling only a little disapprovingly when Dean leans down to kiss him and then leaves the apartment. Apparently this is all Castiel had needed. When Dean returns an hour later with two plastic bags full of groceries, Castiel is up and awake, the table is set and he's lounging in front of some morning show on TV, smiling up at Dean when he asks him to help make breakfast.

Due to the fast healing process Dean is healthy and good to go to work only a week and a half after the ambush. He's had some psychological therapy sessions and given his history and how his former therapist hadn't been helpful at all, Dean is referred to a dark-haired woman who wears tank-tops and low-riding jeans. Dr. Pamela Barnes is surprisingly frank, confronting Dean directly with his traumatic experiences and wondrously this seems to be exactly what he'd needed. She doesn't give him any crap but doesn't take his either, so in the end it's her who advises the chief to take Dean back, who only signs off on that if Dean agrees to see Dr. Barnes at least once every week. Seriously, Dean thinks, this is a gift more than an obligation.

Everyone at the force is happy to welcome him back - and Castiel too who hadn't been at work longer than a couple of days before Dean returned – but they're also very cautious, carefully treading as if every subject, the smallest, most innocent word was destined to set him off in some way. Dean can't really blame them. If he thought about it he's a little baffled himself what he'd been through and he wonders how the hell he's still standing. But then he's looking over at Castiel who takes a slice of cake from Ash – who got a haircut and looks surprisingly handsome for his standards – and he knows that he wouldn't have survived this, any of it, without him. Sweet, damaged Cas, who had opened himself up to him, who had let Dean love him and had always been there in one way or another. It doesn't matter he hadn't told him he loved him yet, Dean had seen it in his eyes when Alastair had gotten him and when Andy had shot him, he'd felt it in the way he held him when they were in bed together and he knows, somehow he just knows.

They eat cake in their office, door half-closed and every now and then Dean smiles over at Castiel on his desk. He'd done a great job; the room looks tidy and organized, the files on Azazel and Co have been stowed in a single box next to the cupboard and the corkboard and walls next to it are free from notes and newspaper article cutouts.

The chief barges in around noon, patting Castiel's shoulder roughly and reaching out a hand to carefully shake Dean's – seriously, people needed to stop treating him with velvet gloves, he's so done with it. The update he gives them is very satisfying, though, and Dean quickly forgets his grudge. Jessica Moore is in protective custody in LA and the preparations for Azazel's trial are going well. From testimonies of his men and some of the evidence found as result of it they managed to track down two other branches of his business and arrest their members. It wasn't safe yet for Jess to be released but the time would come and the chief was optimistic that would be soon.

~~~

A week passes and then another and one morning when they open their office door Patrick is there with three coffees and enough donuts to last a week. It's strange how easy being around him has become, Dean wonders as he leans back and nibbles at a donut and watches his ex talking to his boyfriend. If there's still tension Dean can't detect it and to say he's relieved about that would be the understatement of the year.

“So what did you two saps do for Christmas?” Patrick asks and there's a moment of tense silence before Dean replies, his mouth a thin line and his voice thick with disappointment “Christmas got cancelled this year.”

It takes a little more genuine curiosity and careful coaxing until Dean and Cas talk about how the workload had doubled ever since they got Azazel in custody, that preparations for the trial demanded not only long hours but also abandonment of private matters and even holidays. The chief had promised them some kind of compensation, extra vacation days and of course overpay. Still, the shitstorm that'd hit them when they had to tell their families had been nothing short of a disaster. Ellen had fumed at first, then cried, then punched a few walls and sweeped a couple of vases and tea lights off the sideboard. Bobby and Dean's siblings had tried to take it with more composure but it had been no secret that everyone had been utterly frustrated with the situation. Dean mostly worried about Castiel. He always put on a smiling face but Dean knew how much it hurt not being able to celebrate with his family. They finally started to grow closer again and here they are, spending Christmas apart yet again.

Patrick nibbles his lower lip and considers the two of them with a sympathetic look before reaching out a hand and offering Dean his donut. Dean smiles back a little wryly and shakes his head, turning a little to the side to brush his fingers over Castiel's upper arm.

“They're moving her into a group home,” Patrick says then, clearing his throat and taking another sip of his coffee “Jessica Moore. Word has it she's driving the officers in charge nuts but I think she just wants to get out of there asap – little whirlwind.”

He laughs, shaking his head softly and Dean smiles, his eyes meeting Castiel's over the table. Over the past few weeks Castiel had been thinking. He hadn't told Dean about it but Dean knew him well by now and while Castiel hadn't been distant or unapproachable, there had been something on his mind that kept bothering him. Dean is sure he knows what it is now.

“I'm in town this week,” Patrick says into the silence and stuffs the rest of his donut into his mouth, chewing delightfully “We should get together for dinner sometime, maybe have a little celebration of our own, what do you think?”

Dean looks over at Castiel for a moment, then nods and his smile becomes bright again.

“How's Thursday night for you, say 8 o'clock?”

Fifteen minutes later Patrick gets up and shakes hands with Castiel, pulling Dean into a careful hug and then he's out the door, whistling to himself and walking with that prancing gait that makes Dean chuckle. He closes the door when Patrick is out of sight and walks over to Castiel's desk.

“What's on your mind, hm?”

He sits down on the edge of the table, his legs brushing Castiel's softly as the other man looks up from his own hands and meets Dean's eyes. He doesn't get the chance to reply though, as there's a knock on the door and Ash asks them to go see the chief. They share a quick glance before getting up and following Ash out of the door. The chief looks... unhappy. There's just no other way to put it. It's not like he's usually a cheery person but the frown on his face is unfamiliar and to be perfectly honest it throws Dean off.

“Sit,” he says and it's not an invitation so much as a direct order.

Shit.

They're tense, both of them, and Dean wants nothing more but to hold Castiel's hand to calm... well, he thinks it would calm the both of them down a bit. The chief lets out a long-stretched sigh, then leans forward on his table, elbows on the desk, fingers kneading his temples.

“Is it true?”

Neither of them moves. Rufus sighs again and looks directly at Castiel now.

“You and Winchester, is it true?”

There's a lump in Dean's throat and he doesn't dare to turn his head, doesn't dare to look at Castiel as he says with a voice so hoarse and small that it sends shivers down Dean's spine “Yes, sir.”

Rufus leans back into his chair again, hiding his face in his hands and Dean feels his body stiffen, his hands shaking. He had absolutely no idea how this would end, how Rufus would react. It was an open secret that Castiel and Balthazar had been involved but apparently they never shout it out from the rooftops so nobody ever seemed to have bothered. Shit, maybe they shouldn't have done it at the office, Dean thinks grimly. It's too late now though (and it was hot so Dean can't really feel sorry for it). Rufus clears his throat then and shakes his head softly. He almost looks... sad...

“I'm sorry guys but...this is...unacceptable,” he says slowly. And the thing is...Dean believes him. The chief looks as miserable as he himself feels and he knows it's real compassion, knows that this situation is not something Rufus would take lightly “Inner-office romances are...we can't tolerate them, it's too dangerous. When Winchester was hurt you should have kept a clear head, Novak. It was your mission, your responsibility and we're only lucky nobody else got hurt. In the end capturing Azazel alive was nothing but sheer luck...”

He sighs again, looking back and forth between Dean and Castiel and Dean even manages a small, yet joyless smile.

“Trust me, I get it. I mean I don't get... this...thing,” he gestures between them a little helplessly “But...it's your life, it's your decision and if it makes you happy I say go be happy. But...I can't have two of my officers being in a relationship, not in a job as dangerous and demanding as this one. I can give you some time, a week... but I'm afraid I have to ask one of you to hand in their resignation or the both of you will have to stop seeing each other.”

~~~

Castiel stands up fluidly, without hesitation, and pulls his badge from where it had been clipped on his belt. The holster for his gun is next, coming undone with fingers that are practiced in it, and he puts that on the Chief’s desk next, standing up straight after he's done. The look on Castiel’s face is fierce determination, and Chief Turner looks up with wide shocked eyes, his mouth falling open for a split second, before he snaps it shut again, remembering himself just a moment too late.

“Cas-”

“Really…that’s your decision Novak? You’re going to throw away your career on a whim like this?”

Castiel’s head tilts up, just slightly.

“It’s not a whim, Sir. I quit,” he replies, his voice firm.

“Cas, no-”

Dean gets up then, too, a hand closing around Castiel's wrist but the other man won't look at him, not yet.

The Chief takes a deep breath, and then sighs, throwing his hands out in a gesture of annoyance.

“This is not what I was asking for!”

“Yes Sir…it was. You asked me to choose between the force and Dean. I choose Dean,” Castiel says, and then looks at Dean, his lip twitching in the hint of a smile, before he turns back to look at the Chief again.

“I’ll be there for the trials. Put me on administrative leave, paid vacation, whatever you need to until the trials are done with. I won’t tell anyone that I’ve quit, and we won’t have to file the paperwork for it until everything is done with. I’ll still be Detective Novak when I get called to the stand…but I won’t let this job come between Dean and I.”

“But...Novak…your career? You’ve been working on this since you were in High School, Castiel, I don’t-“

“It’s done now. I lost Balthazar to this job. We caught Azazel. You’re asking me to choose. The job or Dean. I’ve chosen. That’s all there is to it,” Castiel finishes, and then holds his hand out for the Chief to shake, which the man does, after a moment of hesitation, a frown furrowing his brow.

“Thank you for the opportunity to serve my city, Sir. I’m done now.”

Chief Turner nods, and sits back down with a worn out sigh, as Castiel turns and leaves the office without another word.


	24. Chapter 24

Dean is helpless, shocked into disbelieving silence and stupor until Castiel moves towards the door. He's staggering behind the other man, trying to keep up with his striding pace but only catching up when they're back at their office... his office. Dean steps forward, his hand clasping Castiel's shoulder and turning him, forcing him to face Dean.

“What the hell are you doing?”

His voice is shrill and high-pitched, sounding nothing at all like him and Dean couldn't care less in this moment.

“Cas, this is crazy... you can't just-”

He pauses as he's searching for the right words, words that would express just how stupid and blind, how insane and foolish this decision would prove to me.

“You lost enough, Cas, I can't...I won't let you lose this, too...this is your job, this is your office – Cas – I'll leave, I'll get the chief to transfer me, we'll make it work, it'll be alright.”

Cas opens his mouth to speak but Dean is blind to objections now, he's staring at the other man in plain despair, trying so desperately to reason with someone who seems perfectly fine with the path they chose themselves.

“Please...let me do this for you. Let me do something for you for a change...”

~~~

Castiel kisses Dean then. He just grabs the other man’s face and kisses him, heedless of the open office door, the way their boss had just given them an ultimatum to try and force them apart. He kisses Dean with every ounce of love he possesses, every word that he has yet to voice. He kisses Dean and ignores the catcalls, the whistles, and finally when they both break apart, gasping for air, only then does he speak.

“I’m tired Dean. I’m…so very, very tired. I want this. I’ve been thinking the past few weeks, about us, about this job. About Jess. I want to adopt her. I want to buy a house and have a yard and a white picket fence. I -…I want a family,” he pauses, and reaches out to tug on Dean’s tie, face contorting as he smiles softly, ducking his head down as a brilliant flush hits his cheeks.

“I want that with you.”

He smoothes out the wrinkles he’d made in the tie around Dean’s neck, long fingers petting the fabric as he swallows, suddenly nervous about the fact that he’d just laid everything on the line, and he’d yet to even tell Dean that he loved him.

~~~

The words come unexpected, although Dean has to admit he should have suspected the direction of Castiel's thoughts a while ago. Still, they're sudden and the force of their meaning punches the air out of his lungs. Dean has to walk backwards, his knees weak from both the all-consuming kiss they had just shared and Castiel's powerful confession. His hand grasps for the desk, steadying his body as he tries to catch his breath.

Cas wants a life, a family, with him.

His eyes are still wide and as he takes in the anxious hope on the other man's face Dean feels sick. It's so much – too much? – and it's all so sudden.

“Cas, I-”

He falls silent again. What the hell is he supposed to say to this? And most importantly: what does Castiel expect him to say? He purses his lips and averts his gaze, eyes flicking over the wooden table top, the empty walls and the selection of books in the cupboard.

“You can't just...this...”

Another pause and the helplessness on Dean's face turns into a frown, confused and scared.

“I want to be with you, Cas, I do – but you can't just do that, you can't just...decide you wanna play house and not even tell me or ask me what I think about that.”

He's breathing heavily now, chest heaving and Castiel still just looks at him, the smile still on his face and Dean doesn't understand why he's not angry, why he's not punching him in the face. He can't do this, he can't stand here and look at him and wait for something to happen. So he stumbles forward again, hands digging into the soft fabric of Castiel's shirt and he hides his face in it as he feels angry tears well up.

They stand like this for a while, Dean doesn't know how long, and Cas holds him, silently, understandingly. When Dean leans back eventually his eyes are red-rimmed and Castiel, the bastard, is still smiling at him fondly.

“You really wanna do this?”

It's not really a question, though. Dean can see the determination in Castiel's eyes. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat, before stepping back and turning towards his own desk.

“We still need to talk about this...later, I mean,” he says as he sits down and shuffles some papers around, trying to avoid Castiel's eyes. “I'm not on board yet, just so you know.”

~~~

Castiel has to admit that at first, he’s hurt. This wouldn’t be playing house; the mere idea that Dean thought that was what Castiel was asking for was laughable. He almost speaks, but the look on Dean’s face holds him captive, throat locked around the words of protest that want to come up, but just…can’t.

Not with Dean looking so…wounded. So Castiel holds him, when Dean crashes into his arms. He holds him, pets the back of his neck with one hand, just breathing as Dean get a handle on his emotions once more. When he finally backs away, Castiel lets him go, taking a step back himself to give Dean more room.

“…You weren’t on board with my last plan, either,” Castiel points out, a slight smile ticking at the corner of his lips. “That one worked out pretty well…minus the part where you got shot,” He says with a sigh, and then slumps down on the edge of the desk.

“…I know…we’ll have to talk. But you should know that I’m serious about this. About us. I’m not going to push you away again Dean,” Castiel pauses, and then takes a deep breath and lets it out, a soft sigh that’s accompanied by a small smile.

“Take your time.”

~~~

Time.

Yeah, Dean thinks, time is just one of the many things he would need to process this. Just a couple of months ago they had been strangers, two men as different as can be. The bold rookie, still wet behind the ears and with a mouth as big as his heart and the broken and lonely detective on a path of vengeance. Dean would have never thought they'd end up here, as partners, friends, lovers, boyfriends... He hides an incredulous smile by quickly picking up a file.

The afternoon goes by and apart from a couple of colleagues stopping by to whistle or wink at them suggestively, nothing noteworthy happens. Dean gets a text from Patrick as they're leaving the office around seven, confirming Thursday 8 o'clock and a table at a restaurant that serves the most delicious burgers Dean had ever had the pleasure to eat. They drive to Castiel's place and Dean parks the Impala in front of it, even though he still hates leaving her out in the open like that. If all this played out they'd have to get a place in some nice neighborhood.

They undress quietly and Cas disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving Dean a little lost in the bedroom. He sits there for a moment, staring ahead unseeing, before getting up and following Castiel. Standing in the doorframe he watches the other man, the steady circling movement of his hand almost hypnotic.

“Do you love me, Castiel?”

~~~

Castiel pauses in brushing his teeth, the question he’d asked himself a million times already tumbling out of Dean’s mouth. He takes the toothbrush out of mouth and spits into the sink, quickly washing the brush out and cleaning his own mouth with a small cupful of water. He wipes his mouth off on the edge of a towel hanging to the side, and only then does he turn around to face Dean.

Dean, who was vibrant and alive and far too good for Castiel to ever really deserve. Dean, who was everything to him, had become such an important part of his life that even a day without seeing or talking to him seemed far too long.

Dean.

Castiel nods once, and then answers the question with words, out loud for the first time.

“I love you more than I thought I ever was capable of,” he says, his eyes staring into Dean’s own, unblinking, firm in the truth that what he’d just said was absolute fact.

“…and I’m sorry I didn’t say it until now.”

~~~

Dean watches Castiel, watches every small movement and he can't breathe, not now, not when Castiel is quietly looking back at him. And then he speaks. And Dean feels like he's been falling for such a long time, feels like finally he's being caught, his hands being taken and then he feels like he's flying and he stumbles forward and into Castiel's arms and they kiss. It's not the most skillful kiss or even the most passionate. They're crashing against each other, noses bumping and tongues tangling and Dean doesn't care because Castiel loves him. He loves him. He whimpers against the other man's lips and lifts his hands to his face, pulling him up and closer until there's no space at all between them.

“You love me,” he breathes and there's an incredulous smile on his lips, small and cautious and naively hopeful “Say it, say it again.”

He kisses him again and his breath hitches at the way Castiel grabs his body, one hand on his waist, the other around his neck. He's firm, so strong and he's Dean's.

~~~

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” Castiel says with a soft laugh, brushing a hand along Dean’s face, kissing him again and again, unable to stop smiling. He hasn’t felt this giddy in over a year, hasn’t ever felt this caught up in someone, this perfectly, insanely at home. Castiel suddenly doesn’t care if they get the stupid house, or the white picket fence.

As long as he’s got Dean, he knows that wherever they go, they’ll make it home.

“I love you so much Dean,” he whispers, kissing Dean again and pushing him up against the counter, hands touching bare skin and clothing alike, as always, careful with Dean, gentle and possessing at once.

“Tell me you want this with me,” Castiel sighs, brushing his nose along Dean’s once they’d both calmed down a little, their frantic re-discovery of one another slowed to holding on, clinging with loose joy.

~~~

His head is spinning, the words tumbling around in it in a haze. It's too much and not enough all at once and Dean can't stop smiling either. Castiel leans back a bit and they both catch their breaths, Dean slumping forward to rest his forehead against Castiel's shoulder. Castiel's scent is distinctive, unique and Dean wants to stay here forever, just listening to his steady heartbeat and breathing him in completely.

“I want to be with you, Cas,” he says and it's not really an answer but he needs to say it nevertheless “I want you to be happy... this is what you want and I want you to have it.”

He licks his lips and lets his hands roam over Castiel's arms, his back before looking up again.

“I'm gonna regret this, aren't I?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, hoping Castiel doesn't misunderstand him.

“Alright, fine – let's do it.”

He leans in and kisses Cas, nibbling on his lower lip and tasting the unbelieving smile on his tongue.

“But I wanna be the cool dad, understood? You talk to her about...the birds and the bees and shark week and...whatever...shut up.”

Castiel had started chuckling and Dean nudges his side playfully. The idea does start to grow on him though. Him and Cas, fathers. A family.

~~~

“I’m not sure we’d be Fathers to Jess, Dean. More like…Uncles. She had a Mother and Father…and I doubt she’d be okay with us replacing her parents…but I do want to be family to her. I want to provide a home for her, someplace safe,” he trails off, brushing the backs of his fingers over the side of Dean’s face, lost in the millions of freckles that were kissed over Dean’s skin, the soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from smiling his breath taking smile.

“And you get to be the cool Uncle, so long as you really want this. I don’t want to force you into this Dean…this…it has to be something we both want.”

~~~

“Uncle...”

Dean makes a face at the word.

“I don't like that, it sounds weird...and old...”

He shudders dramatically and then takes another deep breath, taking Castiel's face into his hands and kissing him softly.

“Well, I'm not gonna sign any papers tonight... but,” he shrugs and kisses Cas again “I think we should do it...or at least try...if she wants to, if the authorities agree...why the hell not?”

He laughs softly and then pushes himself off the counter and past Castiel, making his way over to the bedroom and slipping underneath the covers with a low groan.

“Turn the lights off, will you?” he mumbles against his pillow, eyes already closed.

He's so goddamn tired. He guesses it's the excitement, the strange newness of going back to work, the shock of having Castiel resign and breaking those life-changing news to him. It's a lot to take in and Dean can't suppress a yawn when finally the room turns dark and he feels the mattress dip as Castiel slides under the covers next to him, arms wrapping gently around Dean's limp frame. He nuzzles closer, hiding his face in the crook of Castiel's neck and he smiles against the warm skin, whispering 'I love you' until sleep pulls him under its velvet wings.


	25. Chapter 25

The next morning sees Castiel waking up to go running at the crack of dawn; he comes back to the apartment to shower after a long run to collect his thoughts, and then wakes Dean up afterward, mouth around his boyfriend’s cock. They don’t get out of bed for another half an hour after that, Castiel taking Dean apart beneath him, and Dean urging him on with growls of ‘Faster’ and ‘Fuck, there!’ and ‘oh God Cas YES!’.  
Castiel is pretty sure his neighbors hate him, but he doesn’t care. He’s happy again, and when he first met Dean, Castiel was sure he would never feel like this again in his life.

Dean was full of surprises.

Castiel lets Dean drive him to the house where they were still holding Jess to speak with her, and is surprised when Dean wants to stay and talk as well, the three of them sitting around on the living room couch, while the Marshalls that were still watching out for her took a coffee break.

“I don’t understand why they want to move me to some stupid group home,” Jess complains, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at the carpet beneath her bare feet. Castiel sighs.

“They want you to continue your life as much as you can, while still remaining protected. There will still be Marshalls watching out for you, but we’ve managed to apprehend over 40 members of Azazel’s operation…the Mexican authorities are working with us on the case now, hoping to figure out who in their country is supplying the people, other than those we already have in custody.”

“What, like I can actually have a normal life after this?! I’m going to be shoved into a home for six months, and then when I turn 18, I’m not going to have anywhere to go! My Mom’s family is in Canada, and I’m not going there, and my Dad’s family is either dead, too old, or disgusting backwards bigots who I swear to God still think that Roe V. Wade was the worst thing to happen, after the Emancipation Proclamation.”

Castiel grimaces, and then looks to Dean, asking with his eyes one final time if they really want to do this.

“…Jess…what would you say if I told you that you wouldn’t have to go to the group home?”

Jessica arches one blonde eyebrow, looking from Castiel to Dean and back again.

“I’d ask what the catch was.”

~~~

Dean stays passive throughout the conversation. Sure, he is there and when Jess' eyes widen at Castiel's suggestion and she looks at him Dean does smile back brightly and – as he hopes – reassuringly. He listens, just as Jess does, to what Cas is saying and his words are so optimistic yet realistic that Dean wants to dart in for a kiss every five seconds. The decision, of course, isn't one to take lightly but Jess is on board a lot quicker than Dean had been. Her eyes are bright and so full of hope and Dean hugs her back tightly when she practically jumps on his lap (after she did the same with Castiel). They stay a while after, drinking tea and eating donuts and it turns out that Dean and Jess share at least the fondness of artfully decorated pastries. Castiel's smile disappears then, making way for an earnest frown as he reminds them and Jess in particular that it wouldn't be easy, that there would be obstacles and people trying to make things harder than necessary, but he also promises to take care of all the formalities and do his best to give Jess a home. Dean thinks he sees her eyes glisten as Castiel speaks and quickly steps in and hugs her tightly.

“We'll see you soon, Blondie,” he says which earns him a playful nudge in the side and sends him off cackling.

He senses Cas would need a minute with Jess so he winks at her and leaves the room, exiting the apartment to wait by the car. The weather is sunny but cool and Dean pulls his jacket closer to his body as he walks towards the side of the road slowly. He can't stop smiling. Castiel's declaration of love the other night, this exciting future they're planning – it should be too much but somehow Dean feels good. For the first time in a while he isn't scared or desperate – or lethally injured – and he almost doesn't know what to do with the feeling. So he closes his eyes and leans against his car, pulling his aviators out of the breast pocket and putting them on. A couple of minutes pass and then he hears the door close and Castiel's footsteps on the narrow path. Dean grins at him, pulling him in a gentle embrace and bumping their noses softly.

“So we're really doing this,” he says, not asks, and licks his lips “We should tell our families, don't you think? Before my mom finds out and castrates us herself.”

~~~

As Dean leaves the room, Jess and Castiel watch him go together, before turning to look back at one another. Jess’ expression is unreadable, and Castiel has a sinking feeling that maybe she wasn’t as into the idea as he’d originally thought.

“Are you sure about this, Castiel?” she asks gingerly, fingers still wrapped around the cup that had held her orange blossom tea.

Castiel nods. “More sure than I’ve been about most things in my life…you deserve to be in a safe environment. You deserve a home, and a family. As much as I can offer you those things, that’s what I plan on doing, Jess.”

Jess swallows hard at that, her eyes watering, and she scrubs at her face before sniffing and offering up a quivering smile. “You’re a giant sap you know that?” she says, and Castiel ignores the way the girl’s voice wobbles.

“I know… I think it’s one of my better qualities, if we’re being honest.”

They grin at each other then, and when Castiel stands up, Jess does too, the pair instantly hugging. It’s a lingering hug, and Castiel rocks them back and forth slightly, petting a hand down the back of her hand, smoothing out the long, blonde curls. Jess eventually pulls back and wipes at her eyes again, looking up at Castiel with a smile that was a little more happy than nervous.

“Keep in touch…let me know how things are going, okay?”

Castiel salutes her, earning a wider grin. “Yes ma’am.”

He leaves with that, looking back up the steps as Jess closes the door with a wave, before turning around to face Dean. The aviators make his heart skip a beat for some reason, and Castiel is reminded, yet again, how utterly drop dead gorgeous the man he was lucky enough to be dating truly was. He kisses Dean around a smile, chuckles as they brush their noses together, playful and carefree in a way they hadn’t had the luxury of being in months.

“I think that’s a good idea, Dean…should we invite them over for a family dinner?” he opens the car door and slides in, waiting until Dean goes around to the other side to climb in as well before he hands over the keys. He smirks when Dean grins at him, and shoves the keys into the ignition, starting the car and taking off down the road.

“I think that they should get to know each other a bit better…thanksgiving was good, but it was only a start.”

~~~

Azazel's trial draws closer and soon its mid-January and Castiel officially resigns, much to the shock of everyone at the precinct. Dean leaves work early that day to be with him because as much as Castiel stands behind his decision Dean can imagine how utterly devastating it must be to give up something this big, this important. They spend the afternoon making love, bathing in kisses and thrusts, and Dean pulls Castiel close until they're practically one, sharing the same space, breathing the same air. It’s way past midnight when they finally drift into nothingness, arms and legs tangled, wrapped loosely around each other and Dean whispers his lover's name until his tongue becomes heavy and the words subside.

They buy a set of matching coffee mugs at Bed Bath & Beyond a couple of days later and while Dean keeps complaining how ridiculous and tacky they are he secretly glows with the anticipation of using them. Hell, he'd never thought domesticity would be for him, would still deny it if openly accused of it. Waking up next to the same person every morning, kissing the dreams from their eyelids, going grocery shopping and strolling down the aisles at IKEA... it all sounds so normal, so mundane but whenever he thinks about coming home to the smell of Castiel's freshly-made risotto his chest tightens with bliss.

~~~

Castiel feels a little overwhelmed; with everything that’s changed in his life recently, it’s like he’s on a merry go round that’s been turned up to top speed, and he can’t find anyone to turn it off. At night though, in the quiet of his bedroom (or Dean’s, depending on where they are), things are better. It’s easy to forget everything else when he’s got Dean’s head pillowed on his chest, his fingers scratching lazily along the other man’s scalp, through short, soft strands of hair.

“Dean…?” he asks softly, just checking if he was awake or not. When Dean grumbles a soft ‘nhh?’ in reply, Castiel swallows and then licks his lips, speaking in a calm but firm voice.

“…I found a place,” he says, and sits up slightly when Dean does as well, looking down at Castiel with wide eyes.

“You did?”

Castiel nods, sitting up all the way and leaning against the pillows behind him now.

“Yeah…it’s, um, it’s a three bed, two bath, in Los Feliz….It’s really nice, and it’s near a park, and a High School, for Jess. I know she should only have a few more months to graduation, but she told me that since she missed almost a year of work she’s going to have to start her senior year over…Home schooling would work, with me being home, but she could also finish her tests at the school, and have other kids her age around more-“

He trails off, looking up at Dean when he realizes that Dean hadn’t replied yet. Castiel swallows again, nervous now, and shoves Dean in the arm gently.

“Well…? Say something, dammit…don’t let me think I’ve set up a tour of the place for nothing…”

~

He shouldn't be as surprised as he is. Maybe it's the suddenness with which Castiel puts it out there, maybe Dean's sleepy bones, he doesn't know. A place. Their place. A home they would share, together all the time. It sure sounds nice. A small smile curls his lips and when he looks up at Cas eventually.

"When?" is all he says and he can see the worried look on Castiel's face making way for astonishment and pleasant surprise "It sounds great to me, babe. 's about time, too, don't you think?"

He grins and leans in to kiss the other man softly. They breathe against each other for a while and when Dean leans back all the tension has disappeared from Castiel's features.

~

Castiel can't stop the smile that comes to his lips, spreading so wide it almost hurts. He wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and buries his face in the other man's neck, a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding coming out in a relieve sigh.  
"Thank you, Dean..," he says softly, fingers squeezing around Dean's shoulders. "...It's been almost a year since I lost Balthazar....I didn't realize it," he pauses, pulling away and clearing his throat, suddenly tight with emotion.  
"...I didn't even realize it...we were so busy with everything...the anniversary of his death is in a week."  
Castiel looks up at Dean, eyebrows raised, and he reaches out to take Dean's hand in his, thumb brushing reassuringly over the back.  
"...Thank you. For not giving up on me, even when I was being a stubborn, self-centered jerk," Castiel smiles lop sided, inter twining their fingers and leaning up slightly to press a chaste kiss to Dean's lips. Castiel hadn't taken the time until lately to realize how much his life had truly changed since Dean had waltzed into his office over six months ago; it had changed so much, and all of it for the better.

~

At the mention of Balthazar's name Dean falters for just a second. He knows how Cas feels and he knows that Balthazar was a huge part of his life that he'll never be able to forget. And no matter how dedicated Castiel now is to him - the memory of all the times when the ghost of his past lover had haunted their carefully flourishing relationship would probably never disappear completely. Dean smiles then and cups Castiel's cheeks as he leans in and bites gently at the other man's upper lip.

“You're my favorite jerk,” he whispers and Castiel pushes at his shoulder playfully sulky but Dean just captures his lips in a deep kiss.

By the end of the week they see the house and while Dean is just as – if not more – excited as his boyfriend, he still tries to tone it down and act all bored and unimpressed. They drive a few blocks before Dean exclaims how much he loves it and they sign the lease two days later. The weekend comes and so does their family get-together. Gabriel and Ellen are helping Castiel in the kitchen while Dean, Sam, Anna and Bobby chat in the living-room. Dean wishes Lisa and Ben could be here but they're on vacation for another week or so. He'd have to tell them then.

It goes surprisingly well. There's a few raised eyebrows and cat-calls as they reveal the location of their new place but everyone is quickly on board with them trying to adopt Jess.

“I wanna meet her,” Jo exclaims and throws a pea across the table at Dean “You wouldn't deny that poor girl her awesome aunt, would you?”

Dean laughs and throws a piece of roasted potato back at her, ignoring Ellen's glares and Castiel's displeased grunt. He shrugs his shoulders then and takes a sip of Merlot.

“Nothing's decided yet – Cas is still in the middle of figuring this out. You guys will be the first to know when something happens, promise!”

Gabriel serves dessert later that evening and Dean is pretty sure he'll gonna have to roll out half of their dinner guests tonight. When everyone is gone Dean sinks down on the couch. They hadn't started packing yet but got the moving boxes already and put them in a corner of the living-room.

“How is it going, babe?” he asks in Castiel's direction, curious himself about the progress in their attempt on becoming legal guardians of a teenager.

He can hear his lover jangling with cutlery and dishes in the kitchen and waits for him to stop and join him on the couch. Dean rests his head on Castiel's lap and closes his eyes. The dimly lit living-room is pleasantly quiet now and the only sound is Castiel's soft breathing.

~

Castiel had spent the last week fighting his way through the system, and visiting Jess every day in the new group home. She hated it there, being older than most of the kids, she was basically a baby sitter without the pay. Luckily, Cas had a lot of things on his side when it came to adopting Jessica; he would have a house soon, he had a terrific reputation with both the law and the community, and he had numerous character references he could use. The only problem was a job. He’d quit the force, and while he’d been there long enough to work up some money in a 401K, he hadn’t worked nearly long enough to qualify for retirement benefits and payout.

So he’d done some research, and come up with a solution. It didn’t take much to convince Dean that he could be a private investigator, and it wouldn’t be that hard to get the license to qualify as one, officially. Castiel had signed up to take the test for the license the following week, and then spent the weekend relaxing with his boyfriend, and enjoying the company of their families.

The dinner went incredibly well, and Castiel was pleasantly surprised how seamlessly their families blended together. It was like a breath of fresh air, after the tension that had always been there with Balthazar. It only helped prove how right he was about Dean, and about them being together.

“What?” Castiel blinks, coming back to the present, his hands carding through Dean’s hair pausing before starting again. “It’s- it’s going well, I think. Once I have the PI license, I’ll be able to start up my own company, and with your income and mine, we’ll be set for adopting Jess,” he trails off, licks his lips and clears his throat.

“I know…I know this is too early, really, to be mentioning this, but it might come up in the home interview they’re going to do for us to adopt Jess.” He looks down at Dean and smiles nervously.

“They’re going to want to know our relationship, Dean. And boyfriends doesn’t sound that official, really,” Castiel pushes Dean up into a sitting position, so they can face one another, and clears his throat before continuing. “I was wondering if you’d be alright with us referring to each other as partners. I think that, until we’re ready for something more, that this could be good.”

He shrugs gently and gnaws on his lower lip, reaching out to take one of Dean’s hands and thread their fingers together.

~

Castiel's suggestion of course only makes sense. Dean knows that it's mostly for Jess' sake - still he can't deny his heart skipping a beat at the notion of referring to Castiel as his partner, having Castiel introduce him as his partner as well. He sits up and returns Castiel's look for a moment, still and quiet, before he can no longer hide his smile. He leans in and captures Cas' lips with his, tasting the smile forming on his face slowly but surely.

"Sounds alright to me," he says when he pulls back eventually and shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly "I mean I'll do it if it's really absolutely necessary."

He grins then and gets up, pulls Castiel with him out of the living-room and into the bedroom. Cas tries to protest once or twice about the 'mess in the kitchen' but Dean doesn't intend to let him catch his breath to complain any more in the following hour or so.

Afterwards they lie together and Dean kisses Castiel's temples, his eyes closed in a post-coital bliss.

"I love you Cas," he whispers against the sweaty skin and marvels at the way his lover's body trembles at the words.

~

“I love you too, Dean,” Castiel replies after a moment, the depth of the words heard in the soft sigh he gives afterward, the way he presses his forehead against  Dean’s and smiles.

“We should sleep,” he says softly, and tugs Dean down against him with a chuckle. “You’ve got work in the morning, and I need to go with the inspector to look over the house- if everything goes well, we’ll be signing the papers by the end of the week.”

He takes Dean’s silence as a good thing, and lets them both drift off into dreamland.


End file.
